


A Little Word: Viktor and Hermione Year 3

by Chanel19



Series: Fallen [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 49,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28894326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chanel19/pseuds/Chanel19
Summary: Viktor and Hermione both struggle with wanting what they have.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum
Series: Fallen [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056233
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Untethered

On a Monday between Christmas and New Year's Day, Hermione was sitting in her office working on her Apparition project when a scroll appeared, dropped on to her desk, and unfurled itself. _Please come to Basra's office right now._ Hermione frowned at the scroll which rolled itself back up and disappeared. Sighing, she got up and started down the hall. Thomas was still in Tibet. Without him around, the other Unspeakables seemed intent on summoning her to meetings and demonstrations as often as possible. She couldn't tell if they felt the need to fill in as her partner or if they were just needling her. As the two youngest, she and Thomas had been expected to help each other as much as possible, but Thomas was a decade older and had taken a long sabbatical after one of his projects fell apart.

Straightening her robes, Hermione knocked lightly on Basra's office door, which swung open. Hermione stepped inside the dark chamber. Basra's office gave her the creeps. Jars of glowing fungi lined one wall and odd noises came from dark corners, of which there were many. It was clear the room wasn't square, but its actual shape wasn't discernible. She resisted the urge to say Lumos and light her wand. Thomas had warned her early on not to do that. It was considered a sign of fear and would earn her endless ribbing. Finding Basra's desk was a test. Knowing she wouldn't spot it with her eyes, she reached out with her magic instead, feeling for a hot spot in the room that would indicate power. When she located it, she stepped gingerly in that direction, testing the floor ahead of her for traps. She couldn't help wondering if he made the old Unspeakables do this nonsense or if his office was just a regular room with a desk when they entered.

When she finally reached the inner office, a candle lit. Basra and Jones were having a cup of tea at a small table in the corner.

"Join us," Jones said. Hermione sat down and Basra handed her a cup of tea. "You've been with us some time now, so it's time for a performance review."

Hermione sat up straighter. No one had ever mentioned a performance review before.

"Past due, really," Basra added. "Although, you keep producing things, so we've been busy reviewing all that." He said 'producing' as though it were distasteful.

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond, so she said nothing. When she'd first gotten the job, Thomas had told her not to speak unless she was certain of what to say or asked a direct question. Listening, he'd told her, would take her far in this job, and that had proven to be good advice, so she held her tongue. She thought a slight smile passed Jones' lips but couldn't be certain.

After a long moment of silence, Basra cleared his throat. Hermione took a sip of tea and waited. Finally, he let out a soft snort. "You have produced some clever items in your time with us, however, we have concerns that you are too focused on function and ignoring theory. You don't work for R&D. You're an Unspeakable, and yet, people are continuously talking about your work." Hermione clenched her teeth to keep from speaking. "Your thinking is too concrete. You are very young. You should be exploring magic. Let your mind free, indulge in flights of fancy. Don't worry so much about the end result."

Alarmed, Hermione asked, "Are you trying to say you're canceling my Apparition project?" 

"Not at all," Jones corrected. "But we are concerned that your focus has been solely in that direction."

"You want me unfocused?" 

"We want you free," Basra said. "You are brilliant, to be sure, but you will stunt your magical growth if you don't learn to untether your mind from your day-to-day existence."

Hermione wanted to laugh. Never in her life had she felt as untethered as she had for the last two years. If she was any more untethered, she might not exist at all.

"I blame the war," Basra continued.

"Basra," Jones chided.

"I do," he said. "She likely had to remain grounded and focused on their efforts to destroy the Riddle boy. It's left her far too task oriented."

Hermione was irritated to be talked about as though she weren't there.

Basra turned to her. "We're putting your Apparition project on indefinite hold. Take some time off. Go and loosen up your thinking. Let your mind wander free. Dip into the river of magic, Hermione, see where it takes you."

Hermione was somewhat surprised to realize she was standing. She wanted to scream, but instead she turned around and walked out of the office into the inky blackness of the antechamber. She didn't need to reach out with her magic since it was furiously pulsing around her. She walked straight to the door and out into the hallway. She didn't bother stopping at her office and walked to the elevators and then out into London.

xXx

Basra looked at Jones. "I think that went well."

"You're an idiot," Jones said dismissively. "Did you hear nothing I said earlier about being gentle with her?"

"Nonsense," Basra said. "Didn't you feel the magic pulsing around her? We'll break down those barriers yet."

Jones stood abruptly. "I think she's been broken down quite enough. Do you never read the paper?"

Basra snorted. "Why would I? It's just garbage."

"Yes, and some of that garbage is written about her. Not to mention, it keeps you in touch with what goes on outside these walls."

"Perhaps that's her problem then," Basra said. "She is too involved in the outside world."

Jones frowned at him. "And you aren't involved enough."

He waved her away. "What would you know?"

"I know you're an ass," Jones said, before turning and marching out of his office.

xXx

When Hermione started home from the Ministry a light mist filled the air, but it built into a real rain as she walked. She could have Apparated right into the flat, of course, but needed the walk to clear her head. Basra's comment to loosen up cut through her like a knife. Ron, toward the end of their relationship, constantly chided her to loosen up, so the phrase always got her back up. She wanted to punch Basra in the nose. She took a deep breath and wiped the rain off her face. She was soaked. A chill ran through her. She still had three blocks to go before she reached Viktor's place. Sighing, she drew her wand and Apparated.

xXx

In an attempt to reconcile with his parents, Viktor had chosen to spend the last couple of days of 2001 in Bulgaria. While they hadn't exactly been warm to Hermione at Todor and Pietra's wedding, they weren't horrible, so Viktor thought he would capitalize on that good experience and spend some time with them before the New Year. Neither of them had felt like her attendance was a good idea, so she was on her own.

Hermione changed into some dry clothes and looked around the flat as she walked into the kitchen. She noted, not for the first time, how little of her was reflected in the décor. Her Pensieve stood in a corner of Viktor's office next to the potion cabinet, which was full of her equipment and potions mostly made by her. Two sections of the bookshelves in the living room were her books, but they were separate from Viktor's, not intermingled, as if both of them understood that eventually she would pack them up and take them somewhere else. She sighed at the grimness of that. More books and her clothes in the bedroom and a few toiletries in the bathroom were the sum total of her contribution. She would be more upset if she'd ever suggested anything Viktor had declined, but the truth was, she never thought about it. Perhaps, even there, she was too pragmatic. She shook her head and poured herself a glass of wine. She wondered how she was supposed to go about indulging in flights of fancy. She wasn't even sure what that meant. Frustrated, she went out on to the balcony and cast an umbrella charm, so she could take in the evening air. Maybe she should go to an art museum, or perhaps some galleries would be better. Maybe she should look for an inspiring painting to buy. Buying art seemed indulgent.

She let out an annoyed snort and took a sip of wine. Her creativity had always revolved around problem solving. Basra seemed to expect her to rewire her brain and become a completely different person. That was absurd. A sinking sensation came over her. Hadn't she planned much the same thing? To become someone entirely new, to throw off her past and live completely in the moment. She shook her head. And now they were telling her the same thing at work. Clearly, she needed a change. After all, work was the one place she felt like herself. If they were questioning her abilities, what did that say about who she was.

There was a knock on the door.

Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. She loathed unexpected visits. They were never good. She finished the wine and set the glass on the counter on the way to answer the door, dreading every step. She looked through the peephole. Jones was standing in the hallway.

"Good evening," the older woman said when Hermione opened the door. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion, but I wanted to speak to you outside of the office."

"Come in." Hermione ushered Jones into Viktor's living room. "Have a seat. Would you like a glass of wine or pumpkin juice?" 

"Wine would be nice. Red if you have it."

"We do," Hermione got a fresh glass for Jones and refilled her own. She handed Jones the drink.

"Thank you."

"Of course." Jones chose to sit on the sofa, so Hermione took one of the purple velvet chairs across from her.

"I apologize for that meeting with Basra. He means well, but he can be a well-intentioned ass sometimes."

Hermione smiled tightly.

"Please don't think that we haven't been impressed with your work, because we have."

That was nice to hear. "Thank you." 

"And you do think creatively, but the concern is that you think a bit like an engineer, and we'd like you to explore your art more than your craft at this stage of your career."

Hermione twisted the wine glass between her hands. "I'm not sure I can do that."

"I'm not either," Jones said.

Hermione looked up in alarm. Her fears must have shown on her face.

"But don't worry about it. No one is going to boot you for how you think. You have an extraordinary mind. No one questions that."

Hermione let out a relieved sigh. "Honestly, I don't even understand what it is I'm meant to be doing?"

Jones raised her eyebrows. "All right. As an example, I spent my first few years wrestling with whether the other types of love could be bottled as easily as Eros."

"But you don't work in the Love division," Hermione said.

"I don't now," Jones said.

"Oh," Hermione said.

"The divisions are a loose form of organization, not hard and fast distinctions. You'll likely work in most of them before the end of what, I hope, is a long and illustrious career. As I understand it, you've been doing a fair amount of research in the Love division lately."

"Oh, um…" Hermione could feel herself blushing.

"You know the bond is likely some of your problem," Jones said.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "I…uh…I didn't…"

Jones arched an eyebrow. "You didn't realize it was visible?"

"No," Hermione said in a hushed gasp.

"A bond changes the color of the bonded person's aura. Instead of being a single steady color, someone who is bound has an aura that's sort of swirled. There are two types of magic surrounding them: their own and their mate's."

"Ah," Hermione said.

"Don't worry," Jones said. "I'm sure you can see many types of magic, but auras are felt before they're seen. You'll see them in time. Magically speaking, you're still a child."

Hermione nodded nervously.

"But your aura is…well…instead of being swirled it's…rather like a storm, actually."

"Oh," Hermione said, swallowing hard. The conversation had taken a sudden, uncomfortable turn.

"I fear that you are somewhat trapped inside that storm, and it's stifling you."

Hermione didn't know what to say.

Jones cleared her throat. "The thing about being bonded to someone else is that the bond can be a prison or a gateway. It's all in how you use it."

"Use it?" Hermione said. The only way she'd ever used it was to locate Ron.

"Yes. You effectively have access to your mate's magic. You can channel it to places where your magic is weak or missing. If the person you're bonded to is a different sort of creative, you can manipulate the bond to channel that, but you're going to have to stop fighting it to make that happen."

Hermione closed her eyes against the thought. "I'm not sure I can do that."

Jones took a sip of wine and sat quietly for a while. "I thought you were Muggleborn," she finally said.

Hermione looked at her. "I am."

Jones frowned. "Then I don't understand how you found yourself in this situation. These days, the only people bonded against their will are pureblood nutters."

Hermione gave her a weak smile. "I wasn't bonded against my will. Quite the opposite actually. At least when it happened."

Jones raised her eyebrows. "Then if you no longer wish to be bonded, break it."

"That's rather complicated as well."

Jones cocked her head. "Explain."

Hermione sighed and told her how she'd bonded with Ron after the war.

"Good heavens," Jones said.

"I know," Hermione said, blushing. "What a colossal cockup."

"Impressive though at such a young age. Still, I don't understand why no one told you then what you'd done."

Hermione sighed. "I've thought about that. I don't know for certain, but I suspect the Weasleys explained it to Ron, and he was meant to tell me, only he didn't. I think he assumed we'd be married eventually, so it didn't matter."

"I don't understand why he hasn't come to you to break it since then though. I mean, you're living with Viktor Krum, right?" Jones said, looking at the photo of her and Viktor on the mantel.

"Yes," Hermione said quietly.

"Isn't that…?"

Hermione nodded.

"Then why haven't you sought to break the bond? Of course, the Weasleys are pure bloods. Has he refused you?"

"It's not that. I just…if he wants it broken, he needs to come to me."

"What about what you want? This is impeding your development. Isn't that reason enough to go to him?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I won't go to him. If he wants a definitive end, he'll need to ask for it."

Jones looked at her for a long moment. "Oh, my girl…"

A tear slipped down Hermione's cheek. "Please, don't say it."

Jones sighed. "I'm very sorry."

"Me too." Hermione wiped her face on her sleeve. "I'll do what I can to, what did Basra call it? Indulge in flights of fancy."

"Yes, well… I'm sure you'll do your best."

"I might not come in for a while. I have a lot to sort out," Hermione said.

"Indeed." Jones stood. "Good luck. I'll see you later."

Hermione nodded and walked her to the door.


	2. Flights of What?

Viktor was irritated as he went downstairs from the roof of his building where the Portkey from Sophia dropped him. A wet mixture of rain and snow was pouring down, and it perfectly suited his mood. He was a day early, but he couldn't stand another minute of his father's surliness or his mother's snide obsequiousness. He shook snow from his head as he walked down the hall to his flat. He wondered if Hermione would be home, or if she'd be at her office. She often slept in her chambers at work when he wasn't home, which would suit him at the moment. He wanted a bit of time to himself, to shake off the last couple of days, before he saw her.

He opened the door to his flat, but it didn't look like his flat. He didn't quite understand what he was seeing. The entrance hall was covered in multicolored vines. He pushed his way through them to the kitchen, but the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room was an actual island in the middle of a violent sea and Hermione was lying on top of it twirling her wand in her fingers which seemed to be creating storm clouds on the ceiling. He could feel spray coming off the waves and stepped back to keep his feet dry. "Hermione!" he shouted over the wind.

Her wand stopped.

"Hermione!"

She rolled over on to her stomach and looked at him. "Viktor? What are you doing here?"

"I live here!" 

She giggled and the wind died down. "I'm on an island."

"I can see that." He wasn't sure whether to be angry or worried. He'd never seen her do anything like that.

She looked around smiling. "It's a flight of fancy." Her smiled disappeared. "Only not really, because it's just a recreation of a scene from _The Tempest_. I saw that play in the West End with my parents."

"Well, could you make it stop?" Tension crept up Viktor's spine. He didn't need this today.

"Sure." She waved her wand and the illusion swirled in a nauseating fashion before disappearing, returning the flat to normal.

Viktor frowned and went into the kitchen. "Come down from there." He took her hand and helped her off the bar. "How much have you had to drink?"

She shrugged. "Not enough. I'm supposed to be indulging in flights of fancy, but all I can do is mimic things I've seen."

"I do not understand what that means." He was not in the mood to deal with her when she was being exasperating.

"It's a work assignment."

"You are drunk for work?" He was thoroughly confused. "That makes no sense."

She shrugged again. "I'm supposed to free my mind." She rolled her eyes. "Whatever that means."

He shook his head. "It is late. I am going to take a shower and go to bed. Try not to destroy the building while you do…whatever it is you are doing."

"I'm done. It's not working. I'll take a shower too." She reached for him, but he caught her hands.

"I do not think so. I am not in the mood."

"Oh." She pulled her hands away, clearly stung. "Okay. I'll just…" She looked around, but didn't finish the sentence.

His heart softened. She looked very small and lost. He sighed. "Go to bed. I will be in after my shower."

She nodded and shuffled down the hall.

Viktor took a long, hot shower, and by the time he got into bed, Hermione was sound asleep. He let out a relieved sigh and pulled the covers over him.

xXx

The next morning, Viktor awoke to the smell of mint wafting through the apartment. He rubbed his eyes, pulled on his bathrobe and walked down the hall. Hermione was in the study stirring a cauldron.

She looked up. "Good morning." 

"What are you making this early in the morning?"

"Hangover potion. We're out."

Viktor scowled at her. "Did you not just make that?"

She frowned back at him. "Clearly not, since we're out."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "You drink too much."

Hermione stopped the flame under the cauldron and gave it a final stir. "That's rich coming from you."

"I drink maybe two bottles of that a month. How many do you drink?"

"More than that. Not that you'd know, given that you're hardly ever home." She walked past him into the kitchen.

"What is that supposed to mean? I have to work, Hermione."

"I know that." She sighed. "I just…you drink. I drink. Don't make a big deal of it."

"I am worried about you. You have not been yourself the last few weeks."

She ran her hand along the counter and wouldn't look at him. "The holidays are hard for me without Mum and Dad. You know that." That was mostly true. She did find the holidays difficult. She thought about her parents a lot during the Christmas season. Of course, she also thought about school and the Burrow and Ron, who she'd been thinking about almost constantly since visiting him in the hospital and invoking the bond, at the request of his mother, to revive him from a magical accident. She'd never mentioned to Viktor that she'd done that, so the whole situation felt like cheating, which made her anxious and guilt ridden, and drinking eased those feelings.

"I know," Viktor said gently, "but—"

"And now this bloody business at work," Hermione continued.

"I do not understand that. Why are they unhappy with you?"

"They aren't. Not exactly. They feel like I'm limiting myself."

"But you have created very useful spells."

"Yes, but apparently, I'm not meant to be focused on useful spells. I'm meant to be exploring magical theory rather than helping people." She rolled her eyes.

Viktor's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Why?"

Hermione shrugged in exasperation. "I don't know. Apparently, I'm all craft and no art or some such rubbish." Only she suspected it wasn't rubbish. Jones had made a good point about the bond, and lately, Hermione had felt very much that she was caught in the middle of a storm and tied up in knots about it. Perhaps she had stifled her thinking. Focusing on a goal was so much more satisfying than allowing her mind to wander, because her mind never wandered to good places. Random musings could take her into a darkness that scared her.

Viktor looked at her sympathetically. "What are you meant to do?"

She shrugged. "Basra told me to take some time off."

He smiled. "Good. Finals are starting. Come with me. Attend the games. Perhaps you need a break and to have some fun."

Hermione was fairly certain that partying with a bunch of professional Quidditch players had not been what Basra had in mind, but she didn't really care. "All right then."

"Excellent."

There was tapping on the French doors that opened onto the balcony. "I'll get it," Hermione said. "Will you make some coffee?"

"Yes. And some breakfast. I am hungry."

"That sounds good." Hermione went to let the owls in.

While Viktor boiled water for coffee and cracked eggs into a frying pan, Hermione opened the mail at the counter between the kitchen and living room. She groaned and Viktor looked up from cooking. "What?"

"It's a reminder about the bloody statue reveal at Hogwarts."

"When is that again?"

"Next week." Hermione stared at the letter. "Like I need this right now."

"What day?"

"You have a game. It's the morning of the start of finals."

"If it is in the morning, perhaps I could—"

"Don't be ridiculous. You can't take a Portkey that far right before a game. It's fine. I can go alone. I'll come to Lindau right after. Hopefully, I'll get there before the game starts. Germany is an hour ahead of us though, so it might be tight."

"You will get there when you can. I understand. I am just sorry you have to attend alone. I know you do not like that."

"It's okay. It's not as though I haven't done it before."

He nodded but still looked concerned, so Hermione abandoned the rest of the mail and made toast and changed the subject to the first match of the finals and how he thought it would go.


	3. A Splash of Scarlet

Rain and or sleet fell every day in London for the week prior to the statue unveiling, so Hermione expected the same misery at Hogwarts when she Apparated to the front gate, but instead, she was treated to a snow-covered landscape in the mountains. Paths up to the school and around the gate had been magically treated with warming charms to keep them clear of snow, so at least she didn't have to stand in it in her nice shoes. Fred and Angelina arrived a few moments after her and greeted her with hugs.

"I suppose you two have been crazy busy with your impending nuptials," Hermione said.

"Not too crazy," Angelina said as George popped in. "We're trying to keep down the chaos."

"Right," Fred agreed. "So, it's just mildly insane."

"Don't you believe it," George said. "They've both been running around like mad. They only pretend to be calm."

Hermione chuckled. "Hello, George." She gave him a hug.

The rest of Ron's family popped in one or two at a time and hugs and greetings were exchanged.

"Shouldn't you be going in, dear?" Molly asked her. "The other two left earlier with Ginny."

Hermione smiled. "I suppose I should. I let you lot distract me."

As everyone chuckled, she slipped through the gate to start the long walk to the castle. She and Ron and Harry were supposed to arrive early, so they could go over the ceremony, which was ridiculous given how many of these they'd done. Hermione was dreading seeing Ron. She hadn't seen him since the hospital, and she didn't feel ready. The closer she got to the castle the stronger she felt his presence and by the time she was in the Great Hall, she knew his exact location, despite how large Hogwarts was. The students didn't pay her any mind, but several professors stopped her to say hello and give her a hug. When she finally made it to the courtyard, Ron, Harry, and Ginny were standing with the Minister of Magic and Percy Weasley next to a large curtain magically suspended around what she assumed was the statue of her, Ron, and Harry.

Ron looked good. He'd filled out some since she'd last seen him, almost back to his former weight. He was wearing deep blue dress robes that looked new and expensive. She supposed his new business ventures were doing well. She smoothed a hand over her own new dress robes. Hers were red with a sleeping dragon embroidered at the bottom. They were a Christmas gift from Viktor. Harry was sharply dressed in black and Ginny stood dazzling beside him in emerald green. Hermione smiled. It was as if they'd chosen the colors ahead of time to represent all four houses, but of course, they hadn't.

Ginny chuckled when she approached. "I told you," she said to Harry, who shook his head.

"How did we manage this?" he asked Hermione.

"Yes, what are the odds?" Ginny said.

Hermione shrugged.

"It's a nice display of house unity for the kids though," Ron said. "Don't you think?"

"I suppose," Hermione said. "Even if we didn't do it on purpose."

Ginny smiled. "They don't need to know that though, do they?"

"No," Hermione agreed. "I say we run with unity."

Ron nodded. "Right? That's what I said."

"Fine," Harry said. "If anyone asks, I'll say it's a show of house unity."

Percy came over and explained how the ceremony would go and where they would be seated during the speeches. They'd all been through so many ceremonies at this point that Hermione was on auto pilot. She sat where she was supposed to, clapped when she was supposed to, smiled when she was supposed to, and then stood with Ron and Harry and had her photo taken with various dignitaries, like she was supposed to. This time though, she didn't bother about where she was standing. She didn't insist on putting as many people as possible between her and Ron, but he did. At no point during any of the photos was he standing next to her. Still the bond practically pulsed between them. She wondered if he felt it as strongly as she did and if he was hoping some distance would somehow make it better. It didn't matter if there were a couple of people or a hundred between them. Nothing made it better. She didn't understand how it could feel stronger now than it did two years ago. She felt like time or distance should weaken it and yet it seemed worse the longer they were apart, which is of course, exactly what Molly had told her and what she'd read in all the books she'd borrowed at work. Invoking it at the hospital had made it even stronger, so that now it felt less like a bond and more like chain around her neck. Finally, when the last of the photos were taken, she slipped from the room, desperate for a breather. She'd intended to go out for a smoke, but seemly of their own accord, her feet took her in another direction entirely, until she was standing in a long corridor on the third floor, not far from where they'd encountered Fluffy, the three-headed dog, first year. The corridor now sported a long rug covered in runes. Hermione walked its length until she stood next to the column where she'd almost died. Out of curiosity, she lifted the rug with the pointed toe of her shoe to reveal the dark spot on the stone beneath. She felt Ron enter the corridor but didn't turn to look at him. She couldn't stop staring at the floor where their blood lay mingled in a stain.

"Are you alright?" Ron said as he came up behind her.

"No. The floor is still stained."

"Even house elves can't completely remove cursed blood. That's why there are so many more tapestries and rugs in the castle now."

"Right," she said quietly, still staring at the floor.

"There's a statue of us in the courtyard," Ron continued. "How crazy is that?"

"Very."

He stepped beside her and looked at the floor. "I can't believe we survived that."

She nudged the rug back into place with her shoe and glanced at him. "I was just thinking we didn't."

"Hermione," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Say my goodbyes for me, will you? I've got to get to Germany." She strode quickly down the hall, her high heels clicking when she reached the end of the rug. Part of her had died on the floor behind her, but the remaining part needed to try and tie the shreds of her current life together and hold on before the past dragged her under.

xXx

Ron watched as Hermione hurried away. Unlike her, he didn't fight the bond. He let it flow in and around him. He liked being connected to her even if it was sometimes painful and very inconvenient in his budding relationship with the junior healer he'd been dating. He'd had to offer a garbled explanation about the war when he'd woken Michelle crying Hermione's name in his sleep. Michelle seemed to understand, but he wished he'd stop doing that. After all, how long could a woman be expected to share his bed if he persisted in crying out for someone else. He shook his head. If only he could stop talking in his sleep, his whole life would be better. He'd looked, but he couldn't find a spell or potion to make him stop doing that. Not that his relationship with Michelle would last anyway. She was great, but she wasn't Hermione.

He walked down the corridor and back to the tower staircase that would return him to the courtyard. He stopped at a window and looked out to see Hermione, heels in hand, running barefoot in her elegant robes along the magically cleared paths through the snow. She was literally fleeing him, a splash of scarlet against the white landscape, like blood on snow. Ron sighed despondently. He had tried to respect her wishes today. He hadn't stood next to her for any of the photos, hadn't touched her in any way, even though he'd been desperate to take her hand in the corridor, to pull her into a hug, he felt like they both really needed. But now she ran like the school was burning behind her. She reached the gate, slipped through, and was gone.

A sane person, he thought, would probably think she was lost to him forever after she fled like that, but Ron knew differently. He'd felt the bond pulse strong between them all day, and over the last few months, it had strengthened considerably. He knew what she'd done for him at the hospital, and he knew why. She still loved him. She might not be ready to admit that or to leave Viktor, but Ron knew it was true, and he loved her too. He just had to bide his time. And when she was ready, he would be there, a better man than he'd been before.

xXx

Hermione Apparated back to Viktor's flat, pulled herself together, and took a Portkey to Lindau, Germany. The old part of the town was on an island in the middle of a lake connected to the newer part of town by a bridge. Unbeknownst to the Muggles, there was another island in the lake without a bridge connecting it to the shore. That island was Magical Lindau and it was where the finals of the European Quidditch Cup were being held. The game had just started when Hermione went into the friends and family box at the stadium. Tensions were high since both Puddlemere United and the Holyhead Harpies were in the finals and tied in the standings.

Two hours in, the teams were tied at sixty points each. The wind had picked up and Hermione and several others cast warming charms to heat their section. She could see other witches and wizards casting the same charm all over the stadium. Suddenly, the Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies plucked something out of the sky next to her and the stadium erupted as the announcers called the game for the Harpies. Everyone on the Puddlemere United side of the stands groaned. Hermione felt awful for Viktor, and the rest of the team, as they made their way to the ground to shake hands with the Harpies players.

xXx

Viktor was quietly fuming when Hermione met him outside the changing rooms. He said nothing as they left through the team exit and Disapparated back to the hotel. He shook his head and waved his wand angrily at the elevator. They rode up in silence. Hermione started to say something, but the doors opened and four more people joined them. Once inside their hotel room, Viktor let loose with a string of Bulgarian expletives and slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a dent.

Hermione felt her stomach drop and backed away from him. She'd never seen him so angry after a loss.

"That was not even a sporting chance! Bloody Snitch appeared right next to her! She did not even have to lean over." He slammed his fist against the wall again. "Even she could not believe it happened. She told me that when we shook hands after the game." He hit the wall again.

Hermione took another step back. She wasn't sure what to do or say.

He glanced at her and the fury slipped away from his face. "Hey, that was not directed at you. I am just frustrated."

"I know," Hermione said, blinking.

"Then why do you have your wand out?"

Hermione looked down at her hand, surprised to see her wand there. "Um…I just…" She tucked the wand away.

Viktor stepped toward her shaking his head. "I would never—"

"I know that."

He put his arms around her. "I am sorry."

"Don't be. I'm fine." She was embarrassed to realize she was trembling.

He held her tighter. "You will never have to raise your wand at me."

"I know that." Although, she'd never raised her wand at Ron, and that had been part of the problem. "It's just been a long day with the ceremony and all that talk of the war. I'm a bit on edge."

Viktor leaned back and nodded. "Perhaps we should just—"

There was a knock on the door.

Viktor let out a soft groan. Hermione shook her head in amused resignation. He opened the door. It was Oliver.

"If that wasn't the worst feckin' outcome," Oliver said without preamble. "Where's the sport if the Snitch is just going to pop in right next to one of the Seekers?"

Viktor made a disgusted grunt.

Oliver looked from one to the other. "I hate Germany now. Come back with me to Scotland. I've got the whole estate to myself for the next month. My parents are in Tahiti. We might as well enjoy it."

Viktor looked at Hermione.

She shrugged. "Why not?"


	4. Tropical Scotland

Hermione leaned against the railing looking out over the extensive grounds around Oliver's parent's estate in Scotland. They were only about twenty miles from Hogwarts and the landscape around them was equally dramatic.

"You know what's bloody awful," Oliver said, gesticulating with his champagne flute. "Winter. Winter is bloody awful. It's frigid out here."

"What do you mean?" Viktor said. "Hermione's warming charm is very good."

Hermione chuckled and sipped her champagne.

"I'm not talking about the balcony. I mean out there. It's arctic," Oliver grumbled.

"It is February," Viktor said. "What do you want?"

"The tropics," Oliver said.

"So, go on vacation. The season is over," Viktor said glumly.

"I don't want to go anywhere," Oliver said. "I've got this place to myself for the next month. What we need is a party, a huge, amazing party, a party to end all parties. I want to bring the tropics to the highlands."

Hermione arched a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

"And how do wish to do this?" Viktor asked.

"Massive illusions," Oliver said.

Hermione snorted. "You'll never pull it off."

"By myself? No," Oliver agreed. "But with the right team. We can do it."

Viktor and Hermione glanced at each other. Hermione shook her head. "Even three people aren't enough for that."

"I know. The way I figure it we'll need seven or eight."

"To do what exactly?" Viktor asked.

"To turn this place into a tropical resort." Oliver's eyes shone with excitement.

Hermione shook her head. "We're in the highlands. What are you supposed to do about the ocean?"

"Or the beach?" Viktor asked.

Oliver held out his arms. "Massive illusions."

"Oh, come on," Hermione said. "To pull that off seamlessly would require—"

"You," Oliver grinned.

"What?" Hermione said. "No. I can't do that by myself. It's too much magic. Creating an illusion to cover an estate this size, come on."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Oliver said. "But I was thinking, what if you cast it with someone else. One of you could do the beach and the other could do the ocean."

"That kind of synchronous casting would require incredible timing," Viktor said.

"Right," Oliver said. "Like a complex dance." He waggled his eyebrows at them.

Hermione wasn't so excited by the idea. "I don't know. That's a tall order."

"You did that ocean in the flat," Viktor said. "It was very good. I could feel the spray. I stepped back to keep from getting my shoes wet."

"But the flat is so small. This is a huge estate."

"It doesn't have to be the whole place, just around the house. Maybe just ten feet past the lower terrace all the way around, like an island," Oliver said.

"A bigger version of what you did in the flat then," Viktor said, clearly warming to the idea. "I could do the sand. We could weave our magic together." He gave her a smoldering look.

She bit her bottom lip. "It would be so much work. We'd have to practice a lot to get it seamless."

"Like a dance," Viktor said. "Besides, have you not been looking for a flight of fancy? This would be that, no?"

Hermione had to agree. If creating a tropical island in the middle of the Scottish Highlands wasn't a flight of fancy, she didn't know what one was. "Fine. I'm in. When are you planning this?"

"Two weeks from today." Oliver was practically bubbling with excitement.

"That's going to be tight," Hermione said. "And what about the rest of it?"

"Not a problem," Oliver said. "I'll be taking care of the Tiki hut and transforming the tennis courts and the Pool House. Fred and George are transfiguring the manor into a tropical hotel."

"Fred and George?" Viktor said. "Are they not—?"

"Ron's brothers," Hermione said.

Viktor scowled at Oliver.

"Come on," Oliver said. "Ron has loads of brothers. Fred and George are brilliant, funny, and inventive. They'll do an amazing job, and they've already agreed. Besides, there are so many Weasleys, you're bound to have at least one at any party."

Viktor looked back at Hermione. "How many brothers does he have?"

"Five," she answered. "And a sister."

"Such a large family," Viktor said, clearly shocked. Most magical families were small with only one or two children.

"Anyway, they're fun," Oliver said. "You'll like them."

Viktor arched an eyebrow at Hermione.

"He's right," she said. "They are fun and undeniably powerful and talented wizards."

"Now I just need to figure out who can do plants and trees and finish up the guest list," Oliver said. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Neville Longbottom," Hermione said.

"As a guest or—"

"To do the foliage," Hermione clarified. "He's a bit of genius about plants. Oh, and you should see if Luna will do the lion."

"What lion?" Viktor said.

"Oh, that's right," Oliver said. "She's supposed to do an incredibly realistic lion. Perfect."

"How many people are you thinking?"

"Two or three hundred," Oliver said happily. "It's going to be grand."

Viktor chuckled and shook his head. "I suppose we should figure this out then," he said to Hermione.

She nodded, already thinking about how to make the sand and sea seamless.

xXx

A week later, Oliver was on the balcony overlooking the back lawn watching Viktor and Hermione try their latest attempt at getting the sand and sea to look right. They were just doing a short section to work out the spell and then they would be able to cast it around the entire manor.

They stopped and Hermione shook her head, pointing to the area where the waves rolled over the sand. Viktor threw up his hands.

Oliver had lost count of how many times they'd attempted the illusion. Viktor was clearly getting frustrated. Oddly, Hermione seemed to be the problem, which surprised Oliver. She was clearly a strong witch, stronger than Viktor, but for some reason she wasn't able to make her magic weave with his.

xXx

"I don't understand why I can't get this," Hermione said, looking at the choppy breakup of the illusion as her sea rolled on to the beach Viktor had created.

Viktor cocked his head at her. "It is like you are holding something back. You are not letting the magic flow back and forth smoothly."

Hermione sighed in frustration. "I need a break. I'm going to take a walk. We'll try again after lunch, okay?"

Viktor nodded but didn't say anything. She knew he was irritated with her, and he was right, she was holding something back, but the thought of letting it loose scared her.

Having spent the last several months learning how bonds worked, she knew that her resistance to the bond between her and Ron was what was preventing her from weaving her magic smoothly with Viktor's. She was effectively blocking him from part of her magic, because part of her magic was Ron's. She blew out a slow calming breath as she walked through the manicured garden in front of Oliver's parents' mansion. The thought of fully opening herself to Ron's magic through the bond made her nervous. What if Viktor could feel that it was Ron's magic? What if he recognized that she was bonded to Ron? That could be catastrophic. On the other hand, Viktor clearly could tell she was the problem, so she had to do something.

Then, of course, there was the issue of opening herself fully to the bond. Once she let that genie completely out of the bottle, could she ever get it back in again? She wasn't sure. Ever since she'd used the bond to help Ron in the hospital, she'd been struggling to deal with it. She literally, physically ached for him. Resisting the bond required a high level of mental discipline and it was exhausting. The idea of just letting go seemed so appealing sometimes, but she didn't know how she was supposed to continuing to live with Viktor under those circumstances. On the other hand, she wasn't going to be able to fight it forever. Perhaps she'd be better off if she just learned to live with it. Perhaps that was how Ron handled it. She wished she could ask him, talk about it, problem solve together, like they used to.

She stopped and sat down on a marble bench next to a pool of water that clearly had a permanent warming charm, because otherwise, the water should be frozen solid. At the opposite end of the pool was a statue of Artemis with sword drawn and an owl perched on her arm. The statue cut an imposing figure, heroic and calm. Hermione closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and blew it out slowly. "Courage," she whispered to the wind and let her resistance slip. The bond flowed freely, and she was flooded with a sense of warmth and wellbeing. His magic felt full and strong which hadn't been her experience before. When she'd first accidentally bonded with him, he'd been so depleted that his magic felt like a trickle flowing through hers, but clearly Ron was healthy and happy now. His magic swirled around hers, distinct but compatible. She felt his presence so strongly, she opened her eyes to look next to her. Of course, he wasn't there, but he was with her magically. She let herself feel his magic fully, testing it, shifting it around, at first tentatively and then more deliberately. She nodded and stood. She could work with it.

xXx

Six hundred miles away, in London, Ron was tinkering with a Muggle gadget that was supposed to play music but not like a Victrola. He was concentrating on understanding how the thing worked when he was hit by a powerful wave of magic and almost fell out of his chair. He caught the edge of the table to steady himself. He was accustomed to Hermione's magic flowing along with his. He'd never fought the bond, had never wanted to, so his end remained open to whatever she let through. Since she'd left him, she'd barely let anything through, but now it felt like she'd opened the flood gates. What had been a trickle of her magic now felt like a raging river, wild and suddenly free. Closing his eyes, he continued to grip the table waiting for her magic to settle and swirl with his instead of overwhelming it. Minutes passed. His heart pounded, and he was breathing heavily, as if he were running instead of sitting still. When her magic finally settled into place with his, he blew out a calming breath. She felt so present he was almost surprised she wasn't sitting there when he opened his eyes.

He looked down at the device in front of him on the table and pushed it aside. What was Hermione doing that she'd suddenly opened up the bond between them? What did it mean? Had she finally faced the inevitable? He looked at his watch. He was picking up Michele at St. Mungo's in an hour to take her to dinner. He wondered if she'd notice the change in him. He felt entirely whole for the first time in a long time.

xXx

Viktor and Oliver were sitting on the terrace drinking tea and talking when Hermione joined them. The warmth of Oliver's charm surrounded her as she sat at the table. She sighed with relief to get out of the cold.

"I was starting to think you would not come back," Viktor said.

"Sorry." A soup tureen and a boule of bread and pot of butter appeared in the center of the table. "I needed to clear my head."

"Given all that goes on in there, I can imagine that takes some time," Oliver quipped.

Hermione chuckled. "Oh, ages."

"What sort of soup is this?" Viktor asked as he filled his bowl.

"Hairst Bree or I suppose the English call it Hotch Potch," Oliver said.

"Looks good," Viktor said.

"It is," Oliver agreed. "And hearty. Just what we need to keep working."

"Indeed." Hermione took the ladle. "I'm starving."

xXx

After lunch, while Oliver worked on perfecting the transfiguration of his parents' massive party tent into a giant tiki hut, Viktor and Hermione returned to the perimeter of the manor to try and cast the ocean and sand illusion again. Hermione was nervous as she and Viktor stood back to back and drew their wands.

"Ready?" Viktor asked.

"Let's go," Hermione said. They began. The casting was rather like a strange dance. They had to stay touching and move together. Hermione knew Viktor would likely feel the difference as she let Ron's magic interplay with her own, but she desperately hoped he wouldn't know the cause.

When they had completed the test section, they both stopped and Viktor turned to her, his mouth open in shock. "What did you do?"

"I…" She didn't know how to answer.

He picked her up and swung her around whooping with delight. "Look at it!"

Hermione looked down to see the waves roll seamlessly over the sand.

Viktor set her down. "How?"

Hermione shrugged. "I let myself relax. I think I've just been uptight about it. I'm not sure why."

He looked her over. "You are…" He laughed. "So…" He pulled her in close. "Fucking hot." He kissed her and she relaxed into it.

He couldn't tell. He knew something was different, but he didn't know what. She breathed a sigh of relief as she came out of the kiss and smiled at him. His hands were wandering. "Viktor, we're outside. Oliver is just over there."

"So, let's go in," he said, his eyes smoldering.

"What about Oliver?"

"He won't mind. We won't be long." He winked at her.

She chuckled and shook her head, but Disapparated with him back to their bedroom anyway.

xXx

A little while later, she lay next to him with her head on his chest, and tried to sort out her feelings. The last hour had been very confusing. Weaving Ron's magic with hers and Viktor's had been exhilarating and the illusion was stunning. Not only did it look good, but she could feel and smell and taste the salty spray on her face and hear the waves breaking. The sand shifted realistically as they walked on it. It was a stunning bit of magic and casting it with Viktor should have been a very intimate activity. It was a very intimate activity. Clearly, he felt that and she did too, but for her it was intimate in a different way, a way that flooded her with guilt along with the excitement of the accomplishment. Letting the bond flow openly felt so good, so freeing, but also wrong and deceptive. As Viktor's chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, she could tell he wasn't sleeping by the way he was breathing. He didn't say anything, but she couldn't help wondering what he was thinking.

xXx

Viktor lay quietly with his arm around Hermione, her cheek resting against his chest. Casting the illusion together had been powerfully intimate, sexy, and exhilarating, but as he lay there catching his breath from what had been a rather vigorous sexual encounter, he knew something was off. While Hermione had participated, she had lacked something. Generally, she liked to celebrate an accomplishment in bed as much as he did, but just now, she hadn't been quite as present or as enthusiastic as he was used to. He couldn't help wondering what had changed when she'd gone on her walk before lunch. Had she really gone on a walk or had she Disapparated somewhere and consulted someone? Her explanation of simply needing to relax didn't ring true. Something was very different after lunch. Her magic had felt fuller, but he couldn't quite put his finger on how. Still, they had created something amazing, and he was very pleased about that. He glanced down at the top of her head and wondered what she was thinking. She kept so many secrets.

xXx

Saturday night, Harry and Ginny were enjoying a quiet dinner at home when there was a knock on the door. Harry looked at his wife. "Were you expecting anyone?"

"No." She frowned at the door. "This was meant to be our night. Just ours."

Harry growled and got up from the dinner table. He gave a wistful glance at his lamb shank before going to the door, his hand on his wand. He looked through the peephole to see a familiar looking man standing on the stoop.

"Who is it?" Ginny stood. Something about Harry's posture at the door made her nervous. She drew her wand and went to join him.

"I think it's that guy who works with Hermione." Harry opened the door. "Hullo?" he said to the man.

"Hello." The man smiled cheerily. "I'm sorry to bother you. I don't know if you remember me. I'm Thomas. I work with Hermione."

"Yes, of course," Harry said. "How did you…?" Grimmauld Place wasn't exactly a commonly known address or easily accessed even if known.

"I work with Hermione," Thomas said again, as if that explained everything. "Actually, I'm looking for her."

"She's not here," Ginny said.

"Right," Thomas said. "I was rather hoping you'd be able to help me locate her."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. "You better come in then." He led Thomas through to his study. Ginny cast a warming charm on their dinner and followed them.

"Why exactly are you looking for her?" Harry asked.

"Ah, well, I've only recently returned from Tibet, and I understand she hasn't been at work in some time. She didn't list a return date or even note her absence."

"That's not like her," Ginny said.

"No, it isn't," Thomas said. "She's not at home either and hasn't been since I got back."

"Did you check her parents' place?"

"Of course," Thomas said. "But it doesn't appear as though anyone has been there for quite some time. I understand while I was gone there was…um…a misunderstanding, and I would like to resolve that now that I'm back."

"I see," Harry said. He opened his potions cabinet and pulled out a wooden box and opened the lid. Inside were several small vials. He removed one and set it on his desk. "Assuming she hasn't dosed herself with dragon's blood, it shouldn't be hard to find her." He set aside the box and opened the vial and drew out a long, curling strand of hair. Using scissors, he snipped a tiny piece from the end and put the rest of the strand back in the vial. Ginny pulled an atlas from the shelf and handed it to Harry. He set the snip of hair on the atlas and cast a location charm on it. The atlas opened to the British Isles and hovered over Scotland.

"That's unexpected," Thomas said. "I thought she'd be somewhere more exotic." Ginny shuffled through a drawer and handed Harry a detailed map of Scotland so he could cast the spell again. Harry snipped another bit of hair and raised his wand.

"Do you mind if I do this one?" Thomas asked.

"Be my guest," Harry said.

Thomas cast the location spell and his wand pinpointed a spot in the highlands. Thomas took his wand. "Did you want to come with me?"

Harry glanced at Ginny before asking him, "Do you think she's in any danger?"

"No. I only want to talk to her."

"Then I think I'll stay, but if she needs me, send a Patronus."

"Of course," Thomas said, smiling. "Cheerio." He raised his wand and Disapparated.

Ginny and Harry looked at each other.

"That was weird," Ginny said.

Harry nodded.


	5. Nice Illusion

Thomas landed into quite a bacchanal. Everywhere he looked there were scantily clad people dancing, drinking, playing games, eating, and talking. The air was unnaturally warm and the entire scene looked and felt like he'd landed in the tropics, not the highlands in winter. He took off his coat and hung it over his arm. Narrowing his eyes, the party glowed with illusion magic. Thomas smiled. He tucked his wand back in his pocket and marveled again at the cleverness of Hermione's map Apparition. Too bad it couldn't be released publicly. It was damned convenient. He let the magical glow slip away, and enjoyed the illusion. Looking from group to group, he tried to spot Hermione. There was a very realistic lion wandering around and occasionally roaring, which often shocked whoever was near it, causing them to spill their drink and then resulting in laugher all around. He saw Viktor talking with a group of other Quidditch players, but Hermione wasn't with him. He wandered through the tiki hut where a large dance floor was set up, but she wasn't there either, so he kept moving through the party. He declined an invitation by a rather drunken group of people to join a game of magical shuffleboard. He continued around the house to quieter areas. Several couples were making out in the sand, or under the palm trees. He ignored them and kept going, hoping he wouldn't find Hermione coupled up somewhere. Eventually, he found her on the side of the house furthest from the party. He almost didn't recognize her. At work, she was always dressed in traditional robes and her hair was brown, and curly. There she was wearing a bikini with a sarong wrapped around her waist and her hair was straight and almost blonde. If he hadn't recognized her magical aura, he might have walked right past her. She was wandering along the shore where the waves rolled over the sand. As he approached her, he could see she had an empty highball glass in her hand.

"Hermione?" he said.

She stopped, turned around slowly, and blinked at him. "Thomas? What are you doing here?"

He sidestepped her question with another. "Nice illusion. Yours?"

She looked down as a wave rolled over her feet. "This part, yes. I cast it with Viktor." She was speaking slower than usual which made him question how much she'd had to drink.

Thomas nodded. "That must've been challenging."

"Yes." She continued walking.

Thomas kept pace with her. "You've not been back to work in quite a while." 

"No." She looked around. "I'm meant to be..." She shook her head. "I don't know what I'm meant to be doing, really. I haven't got it whatever it is."

Thomas frowned. "Jones told me what happened. There was a big blowout about it at Monday's meeting of senior staff. Seacole and Ellis are quite upset with Basra and Jones. Basra for his approach to your training and Jones for not coming to them about it instead of approaching you herself."

Hermione stopped walking and looked at him. "Oh?"

"Yes, you've caused quite a stir."

Hermione raised her glass as if to take a drink, realized it was empty, and lowered it again. She sighed sadly and shrugged. "Are they chucking me?"

"No, of course not," Thomas scoffed. "No one is getting chucked. These are differences of opinion. It's not as if there are scads of us coming in for training in groups. It's one, rarely two at a time, and years can go by with no one new at all. It's not as if there's a training curriculum after completing the trials. Everyone's magic is different. Everyone learns differently. It was wrong of Basra to impose his style on you. It was wrong of them to put your project on hold or question your choice of work. He sees that now."

"Really?" Hermione said, her brow wrinkling in disbelief.

"Of course," Thomas said gently. "Basra is a blowhard, but he's not an idiot. He's been shown his error, and he understands it was the wrong approach. You need only return to work and everything will be sorted."

She didn't believe him. "So, it's fine that I'm not focused on theoretical magic? Because Basra made it seem like I was failing."

Thomas felt awful for her. "You are not failing. Magic is everything all the time. There is no one true way to experience it or mold it. Follow where the magic takes you. There is no perfect path. Right now, you're quite practical in your approach. Next year it might be different. In forty years, you might be head of the Love division and speak only in rhyming couplets. No one knows where the magic will take them, that's why it's magic."

Hermione blinked back tears. She didn't know about ever being head of the Love Division, but what Thomas said made sense, a lot more sense than what Basra had told her.

"I'm sorry I was gone so long. Prior to you joining us, I was the youngest. It's not an easy position. I could never sort out if they were deliberately hazing me or were just out of touch and obtuse, but it didn't really matter. In the end, I just did whatever I wanted, and it's worked out fine. I suggest you do the same.

Hermione let out a soft snort. The idea that she could do whatever she wanted was absurd. She was trapped in her history, her subsequent celebrity, and her own bad decisions. On the other hand, that didn't have to be true at work.

She heard her name shouted. "Hermione!" Viktor shouted again from the terrace. "Come dance with me!"

Thomas smiled at her.

"Duty calls," she said, smiling, but Thomas' smile disappeared to be replaced by a look of concern. He started to say something, but she rested her hand on his arm. "I'll see you on Monday. Thanks for coming." She walked back up the beach toward Viktor.

Thomas watched her go and wondered what she was doing at this party. She seemed out of place. He thought of Harry's quiet night at home with his wife and wondered where the third member of the Golden Trio was. _What a weird existence those three have_ , Thomas thought. He shrugged. The universe was strange. He pulled his wand and Disapparated back home.

xXx

Ron was sitting in the audience of a classical quartet concert and trying to stay awake. Michelle sat next to him holding his hand and listening to the music. Every once in a while, she glanced at him and smiled, checking in, making sure he wasn't bored. He always smiled back, but he was bored. Classical wasn't his kind of music. Not that it was bad, not at all. It was so soothing, it made him want to close his eyes, but he figured snoring through a concert by her favorite quartet probably wouldn't win him any favors, and he liked her. She was bright and energetic. She was very enthusiastic about her work and reading and music. Even though she was only a few years younger than him, and had been at Hogwarts in Ravenclaw at the same time he was in Gryffindor, when she talked about school, it was like they'd gone to completely different places. The war, somehow, hadn't directly touched her. Her father had taken a job in Paris at the end of Ron's sixth year and her family had moved there. Michelle had gone to Beauxbatons for what would have been his seventh year, so she hadn't lived through the horrors at Hogwarts. The classmates she'd left behind were all too young to fight in the final battle and had been sent home. She was unscathed, and he found it both refreshing and exhausting.

He stayed with her mostly because she reminded him of Hermione before the war, smart and driven. It didn't hurt that she had all that curly hair and even her figure was similar to Hermione's. He enjoyed her company, and she'd started spending some nights at his place. He liked the way she fitted against him in bed, almost perfect. He thought of his time with her like a do-over. Only this time, he was clear-headed and strong. He had money. He could afford to treat her properly, hence the tickets to this exceedingly boring concert.

On the other hand, on the nights Michelle spent working at Saint Mungo's, he found himself crawling back into Margaret's bed. Margaret's tatty little flat in Knockturn Alley held no expectation, no drive, and no future, at least not for Ron. Margaret's soul was every bit as tired as Ron's was. It was a comfort not to feel so damaged in her company. Michelle made him feel like an old man when he wasn't one. Margaret made him feel like a stud, mister easy-breezy. All she wanted was a laugh and a cuddle. He wasn't sure what Michelle wanted, but he was starting to worry she was looking for a future, and he knew he couldn't offer her one. He wished he could. His life would be so much simpler if he could just let go of Hermione and marry Michelle. He could probably even make that happen if he just went to Hermione and asked her to break the bond, but he knew he wouldn't, especially not now that she'd stopped fighting it. His gut told him the tide was turning in his favor. He looked over at Michelle, who smiled at him. He smiled back. He should probably break up with her, but a bird in the hand and all that. He blew out a long, slow breath, and tried to pay attention to the music.


	6. Winter Returns

Hermione's back was cold. She could hear voices that sounded like they were coming from outside. Viktor was warm next to her and softly snoring. Her head was throbbing. The voices were growing louder. She started to roll over to sit up, but there was nowhere to go and she realized she was on a sofa, and opened her eyes as she swung her legs around to sit on the edge. A door slammed open, waking Viktor, who abruptly sat up, nudging Hermione who stood to keep from falling, as several members of his team came into the room. They all stopped, suddenly silent. Naked, she stood frozen for a moment, blushing. She turned abruptly and snapped her fingers. The beach towel that was bunched on the sofa next to Viktor rose up and wrapped around her as she walked quickly to the kitchen where a large cauldron of hangover potion stood ready for the inevitable needs of the partygoers.

Once in the kitchen, she wrapped the towel more securely around her and drank down a ladle full of the potion before pouring some in a glass for Viktor. His team members were coming down the hall toward her, and once again, a hush fell as they saw her.

"Hermione," Oliver said quietly.

"Oliver." She continued past him back to the living room. Naturally, the glamor charm she cast daily to cover her scars had worn off while she slept, so now, in addition to seeing her naked, most of Viktor's team had also seen her scars. She shook her head. "Bloody hell," she muttered as she came into the living room.

Viktor was still sitting naked on the sofa, a pillow in his lap, and his head in his hands.

She handed him the glass of potion. "Drink this."

He gratefully drank the contents. "Thank you." He leaned back against the sofa. "I might live now. Do you have any idea where our clothes are?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "I think they must be in the pool house."

"Ah," Viktor said. "That is right. We went swimming." One side of his hair was plastered against his face and the other side stood up in a hundred different directions.

Hermione didn't even want to think about what her hair looked like. She held out a hand to him. "Come on. Let's get a shower."

He let her pull him up and stood there with the pillow. "I don't suppose there is another towel."

"No. I think we only brought the one."

"I guess I will be taking this pillow with me then."

She chuckled. "Good plan." They headed back to their room.

xXx

As they walked through Oliver's parents' massive home, they saw multiple people in various states of undress passed out on different pieces of furniture and one or two on the floor.

"That was some party," Viktor commented. They hurried upstairs. Hermione quietly shut the door to their bedroom behind them so as not to wake up anyone who might be sleeping nearby. Although given how many people were splayed out around the house, she wondered how many partygoers had managed to make it into actual beds.

Viktor tossed aside the pillow he'd been holding in front of him and walked into the en suite bathroom and started the water running. "Come take a bath with me. I am chilled to the bone. You must be too."

She was cold, but also sober, and last night's conversation with Thomas had resurfaced in her mind. She could go back to work. She thought about the remains of the bacchanal all around her and realized she wanted off the party train. She wanted to go back to work where she knew what she was doing and understood her goals. Despite the bizarre nature of the Department of Mysteries, it felt so much more solid to her than her personal life. She needed solid ground, but like his work, so much of life with Viktor was up in the air.

She could hear the water stop and Viktor moaned as he lowered himself into the tub. "This is wonderful. Come join me. You will feel better."

Hermione looked at the bathroom door. She dropped the towel and went to join Viktor. He was going to be irritated that she wasn't going to spend the rest of the month in Scotland, but there was no sense ruining the rest of the morning. She would tell him she was going back to London later. 

xXx

After their bath, Viktor and Hermione went to bed for a long a nap. They woke and went back downstairs just after one o'clock in the afternoon. Other people had obviously woken and left during the interim since there were no longer bodies strewn throughout the house. They found some of the remaining partygoers in the formal dining room, where a buffet was set up and most of Viktor's teammates were having brunch, under watchful, disapproving paintings of Oliver's ancestors. A hushed silence fell over the room when they walked in. Hermione sighed and went over to the buffet and began to fill a plate. Viktor followed her.

"Why did everyone get quiet?" he whispered to her.

"They're your teammates," she whispered back. "You tell me."

He turned to look at his teammates, who were all staring at them. He frowned. "What?"

Hermione cringed but didn't turn around. She was fairly certain she knew why his teammates were so quiet and the last thing she wanted was to address it. She mentally kicked herself for being sarcastic with Viktor. She knew sarcasm didn't translate well. She should have just told him to leave it.

"Nothing," Oliver was quick to say.

"But," said Parker-Phipps, a rookie.

Oliver shot him an angry glare.

"But what?" Viktor said.

"Nothing," Oliver reiterated. "It's fine."

Hermione turned around and went to the table. The whole team stood, even Oliver. Parker-Phipps pulled out a chair for her. Hermione sighed again. "Thank you." She took her seat and everyone else sat down. Viktor remained standing. No one said anything. He let out an annoyed grunt and resumed filling his plate before taking a seat next to Hermione. The silence was stifling and everyone kept glancing up from their plates to look at her. She sipped her coffee. Her first forays into public after she'd recovered enough to leave the Burrow had all been like this. Hushed voices, stolen glances, a certain reverence, but she hadn't had to experience it in a while, and she'd forgotten how annoying it was. She went to take a bite of her eggs, but ended up setting her fork down instead. Pretending this was a normal morning was pointless. "All right. Go ahead. Just ask. It's okay."

Viktor's teammates all looked at each other.

"I'm sorry," Oliver said.

"Don't be," Hermione said. Viktor stirred next to her, but she put a cool hand on top of his. 

"It's just…" Parker-Phipps said. "I mean we've all read the accounts…"

"But it's not the same," Davies said from the other side of the table.

"How on earth did you survive that?" Mohit asked. Everyone looked at her.

"Ron got me to Saint Mungo's before I bled out, and a lot of healers worked very hard to save me, or so I'm told. I don't really remember any of that."

"How long did it take you to recover?" Karabo Dlamini, a slim woman who played Chaser, asked.

"Months," Hermione said. "Several in the hospital and several more when I was released. But I'm fine now."

There were nods and awkward smiles.

"But you go to the med center at the gym every week," Parker-Phipps said. There were a couple of gasps and he got several dirty looks. "Well, she does," he said in a wounded voice.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes, well, that's only to…" She glanced at Viktor who sat stone-faced. "Help with…to…you know…reduce the scars…it's as much cosmetic as anything."

Viktor frowned slightly but didn't contradict her.

"Oh," Parker-Phipps said. "That's good then."

There were more nods of agreement.

"I think so," Hermione said.

There was another awkward silence.

"Well, all right then," Oliver said. "I need more coffee." He held up his cup and a large pot sailed over to fill it.

Other players held up their own cups and everyone started eating again. Eventually, conversation resumed. Viktor seemed to come alive again. He stabbed a sausage rather aggressively and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. Hermione choked down a couple of bites of egg and some toast, before excusing herself.

As she took the long walk back to their bedroom, she felt saddened that things would be different now. One of the best things about spending time with Viktor's teammates was that they had never treated her differently. There was a refreshing lack of reverence or vitriol in their interactions with her, whereas sometimes, when she encountered new people, they treated her more like an icon or a pariah, or weirdly both, rather than as a person. She feared all that was gone. The weight of the Golden Trio was firmly on her shoulders with the team too.

xXx

As Viktor walked back to their bedroom, he didn't know how to react to his teammates' response to Hermione. At most, he had expected them to give her some ribbing for being caught naked. Their reverential reaction to seeing the scars had thrown him. Of course, he had been shocked the first time he'd seen them too, but mostly out of concern that the one on her side looked very painful, and she'd been hiding them from him. Now the scar on her side looked much better and the other two were faded to white, so he hadn't expected his teammates to be so effected. Naturally, the British ones, at least, were somewhat in awe of her anyway, due to her role in the war and her membership in the Golden Trio, but they'd quickly gotten over that upon meeting her. She never talked publicly about the war, didn't generally capitalize on her status, and when with the team, kept things light. He hesitated at their bedroom door, unsure of what he would find when he opened it. He blew out a slow breath, set his jaw and went inside. The lights were off. Hermione was lying in bed on top of the covers staring at the ceiling.

"Are you all right?" Viktor asked quietly.

"I'm fine."

He could tell from her voice that she'd been crying. "I am sorry." He sat on the side of the bed. "I did not realize they would react that way."

"It's not your fault. It's mine. I shouldn't get so drunk that I wake up naked in someone else's house."

"Everyone was that drunk last night."

Hermione shook her head. "But they aren't me, are they? I know the glamor charm wears off if I fall asleep. I should know better. Swimming last night was a mistake."

Viktor sighed. "We all went swimming."

"Still. It was stupid. Now, they're going to treat me differently and I hate that."

"They will get over it. They were just shocked to see real evidence of what they had only read about."

"I know, but I didn't—" Tears slipped from her eyes.

Viktor took her hand. "You are who you are and there is nothing wrong with that."

"I hate it," she said in a choked whisper.

He kissed her hand. "I know."


	7. All for Naught

A few weeks later, Ron was in the flat over his shop, once again contemplating whether or not he should break up with Michelle. He didn't see her that much. She worked long hours at the hospital and was studying or testing when she wasn't working. What little free time she had was spent sleeping, granted, that was often in his bed, but days went by that he wouldn't see her at all. Given that they hardly saw one another, it didn't seem that critical to break up. After all, how attached could she be, given the circumstances? He did really enjoy her company. Like Hermione, she was sharp and had a good sense of humor and enjoyed it when he was funny, which was always nice.

There was a knock on the door. When he opened it, Michelle stood in the hall with a bag of takeout in her hand. With her other hand she pulled him into a kiss.

When they came up for air, Ron said, "Hullo."

"Hiya." She stepped inside, blushing slightly. "I'm starving. I hope you're hungry. I brought enough curry to feed an army."

"Curry?" Ron closed the door and following her into his kitchen, where she set the food on the counter.

"Yes. I kept passing this Muggle restaurant on the way from St. Mungo's to Diagon Alley and it smelled so good. Eventually, I had to go to Gringott's and exchange some galleons for pounds, because I had to try it. Best decision I've ever made. Muggles are brilliant with food."

"Absolutely," Ron said, as Michelle set out cartons on the table. "Have you had Thai food? It's brilliant too."

She looked at him. "Oh, that's right. Granger is Muggleborn. I suppose you two ate all kinds of Muggle food."

"Over the years, yeah." Ron was uncomfortable talking about Hermione with Michelle, but she didn't seem to care, which was refreshing. Most of his dates were incurably curious about the couple in the Golden Trio, and even worse about Harry. Michelle never asked about his war years, never asked about Harry or Hermione, and didn't seem bothered when the subject came up. He really liked that about her. He particularly liked that she had never once asked if she could meet Harry.

Michelle pulled a couple of bowls out of the cabinet, handed one to Ron and began filling hers from the various cartons. "What else have you had?"

"Well." Ron started filling his own bowl. "Chinese food is pretty good, but I prefer Thai. She used to bring me and Harry French pastries when she'd come back from holidays with her parents. Those are amazing. Italian food is quite good too. Have you had that?"

"No." Michele looked intrigued. "What's it like?"

"Noodles and different sauces and cheeses, lots of fresh herbs, really good stuff. I don't remember the names of what I've eaten, but I probably could if I saw a menu."

"We should go sometime."

Ron made a non-committal noise around a mouthful of food. He didn't know how he felt about going to a Muggle restaurant without Hermione. Not that he didn't think he could manage. He'd had quite a lot of experience with the Muggle economy during the war, but the idea of entering that world with another woman seemed wrong somehow, as if the entirety of the Muggle world belonged to Hermione, and he shouldn't experience it without her. He knew that was ridiculous, but it was how he felt.

"What have you got on the agenda for this week?" Michelle asked.

"Production. It's nice not having to worry about casting a lot of games this time of year, but we're working on building up inventory, while we have the down time."

"That makes sense."

"Yeah, oh, and the three of us are due at the opening of the new Second Wizarding War exhibit at the Museum," he said glumly.

She gave him a sympathetic look. "I take it you're not looking forward to that."

"Is anyone? It just brings up bad memories, doesn't it?"

"I suppose it's important for future generations. Not wanting to repeat the mistakes of the past and all that."

"Right." Ron fished a piece of lamb out of his Rogan Josh.

She squeezed his other hand. "What day is it? Maybe I can go with you for moral support."

"Thursday morning."

"Oh." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I have a big test all day Thursday."

Ron smiled at her. "That doesn't sound too fun either."

"No. I have to perform all the medical magic I've learned to date. It'll be a grueling ten hours, but when I'm done, I'll be finished phase one of my training."

"Impressive," Ron said and meant it.

"I suppose. We'll see, but I think I'm ready."

"I'm sure you are."

She smiled at him and he smiled back. She really was lovely. He didn't want to break up with her. The little time they spent together always brightened his week. Besides, she didn't seem all that invested in him. She was busy and up for fun in her downtime. Nothing wrong with that. He'd leave it for the time being.

xXx

Viktor and Hermione were back in London. He hadn't been upset when she chose to return to work in London. Instead, he'd joined her a few days later. Late Sunday night, they were woken by tapping on their bedroom window. "I'll get it," Viktor said, rolling out of bed. He opened the window and a large boreal owl hopped in. Viktor took the letter from its leg while Hermione went to get the bird a treat.

When she came back into the bedroom, she could see by the look on Viktor's face that something terrible had happened. "What's wrong?"

He looked up with tears in his eyes. "Boyka."

"No," Hermione said sadly.

"They found her this morning," He shook his head.

Hermione put her arms around him and he pressed his face against her neck. Hermione had liked Boyka, although she was hardly surprised that she'd died. Boyka had looked like death warmed over a few months ago at Todor and Pietra's wedding. She could feel Viktor's tears wet against her skin. She stroked his hair and held him. Viktor had known Boyka since school. They'd dated for a while and had remained friends after. Boyka was close to Pietra and Todor, so this loss was a tragedy for all of them. Viktor pulled away from her and wiped his face and cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"Don't be. It's a terrible loss."

He nodded. "The funeral is Thursday afternoon. I know you have the museum opening, but—"

"I'll be there. I'll come right after. I'll take a Portkey with me."

"Thank you." He hugged her again. "Can you make one for me? Practice does not start for a few weeks. I should go and spend time while I can."

Hermione nodded. "Of course."

"If you do not mind, I think I will pack now. I will not be able to go back to sleep."

"Go ahead. I'll make coffee and prepare your Portkey."

He cupped her face in his hands. "Thank you. You make my life better."

She let out a soft snort, turned her face and kissed his palm. He let her go. "I'm sure that's true sometimes, but we both know, it's not always."

He chuckled. "On balance, I think it is more often better."

She smiled at him. "Good to know."

He smiled back at her and went to get in the shower. Her smile faded as she walked to the kitchen. Viktor didn't generally comment on their relationship and it was disconcerting. Of course, she knew it was likely just the emotion of the circumstances, but that didn't help the wave of guilt that engulfed her.

xXx

Thursday morning, Hermione woke up in her rooms at the Department of Mysteries. For the last few nights, she'd slept there to avoid being home alone at Viktor's flat. She drank too much when she slept in his flat alone, staying at work avoided that. Thomas had been right. The day she returned to work, she was granted permission to resume her Apparition project and everyone acted as though nothing had happened. She felt awkward for a few days but that subsided quickly enough as she was absorbed back into the work.

She got dressed and washed her face before heading back to Viktor's flat to get dressed more formally for the exhibit opening. Ron was on her mind as she crossed the street. His behavior at these events varied wildly. Sometimes, he was aloof, sometimes he seemed desperate to interact with her, sometimes he seemed angry. There had even been occasions when he was all three at the same event.

She stood in the shower for as long as she could and still make the opening on time. She dressed in black since she would leave for the funeral directly from the museum.

xXx

Ron felt like he'd taken a punch to the stomach as he knotted his tie. He'd resolved to talk to Hermione today. He'd worked it all out. He was going to bring her something to drink at the reception and then ask her if they could talk, maybe go for coffee, or meet later in the week. It was time. She'd stopped fighting the bond, and she never brought Viktor to events. Today was the day. He smoothed down the front of his jacket, drew his wand, and Disapparated.

xXx

Hermione was the last to arrive. People were already taking their seats when she sat down next to Harry. Ron had deliberately sat down on the other side of Ginny so Hermione wouldn't have to sit next to him. He didn't want to start off on the wrong foot. She'd looked harried when she arrived and was uncharacteristically dressed in black. She and Harry looked like they'd called each other beforehand and hadn't bothered to call him. He was dressed in a dark forest green suit that Michelle had picked out for him. The Minister of Magic took the podium, so all Hermione had time to do was nod her hellos.

She sat through a program of speeches she felt like she'd already heard a million times before. The words had lost all meaning for her, and she kept checking her watch. She needed to leave no later than noon, and if these people didn't shut up, she was going to have to leave in the middle of a speech. Finally, Harry took the podium. Bless him, he kept his comments short and sober. He had a knack for saying little and being much loved for it. When he returned to his seat, Hermione leaned into him and whispered, "I need to leave by noon."

He nodded and she knew he'd take care of it. As soon as the Minister released everyone to enjoy the reception, Harry made a beeline for the photographer. Ron went to the buffet. Typical, she thought. Harry returned.

"They're setting up for photos now. We'll get the usual group shots with V.I.P.s, and then you can get out of here."

"Thank you, Harry."

Harry looked at his watch. "What's the rush?"

"I have a funeral to get to in Bulgaria."

"Who died?" Ron asked, coming up to them with three glasses of pumpkin juice in his hands. Harry took one, and he handed the other one to Hermione.

"Thanks." His finger grazed hers as she took the glass and the sensation raced through her like lightening. "Um," she said, refocusing on his question. "You don't know her."

"Oh," Ron said, crestfallen. Her glancing touch had him feeling warm all over, but she was leaving, and all of his plans to talk to her fell away. He didn't know when he'd have the opportunity to see her again.

Unnerved, Hermione shifted her focus to Harry. "Where's Ginny?"

"She had a shipment coming in at the pub and besides, she kind of hates these things. Can't say as I blame her."

Hermione let out a soft snort. "But she still likes running the Three Broomsticks?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I wasn't sure about it when she first suggested it, but it's worked out rather well."

"Good," Hermione said, smiling.

The photographer called them over. After what seemed like a thousand photographs with various dignitaries, they were finally done at two minutes to noon. There were still a lot of people milling about, but Hermione made her way determinedly through the crowd, smiling and nodding goodbyes as she went. Ron saw her making her exit and followed.

"Hermione!" he called as he pushed through the front door of the museum. She turned to glance at him, but she'd already charged the Portkey and was pulled up and away from him.

"Damn," Ron muttered.

xXx

When Ginny went back to Grimmauld Place that afternoon for lunch, Ron and Harry had just arrived.

Harry stood to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "I've put the kettle on. I'm going to pop upstairs and put on something more comfortable."

"Sounds good," Ginny said, smiling at him in his dress robes. "I'll make the tea."

Ron was loosening his tie, putting her in mind of their school days. She kicked off her shoes and started putting together cheese and pickle sandwiches. When she turned to give Ron his, he had his face in his hands.

Ginny sighed. "Did it not go well with Hermione then?"

Ron looked up at her and shook his head. He pulled the plate toward him. "It didn't go at all. She had to rush off to Bulgaria for a funeral."

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"No one we know. But still, I reckon this is probably all for naught."

"Ron—"

"Don't. Seriously."

Ginny reached across the table and squeezed his forearm. "Okay."

"I'm fine," Ron said.

"I know." Ginny smiled at him. "Tea?"

"Of course."

Harry came back downstairs and joined them. He looked at Ron still in his dress robes. "I'm surprised you didn't pop home to change."

"Actually, I have another event. Michelle is testing today to complete her first year of training, and I said I'd meet her and her friends for drinks after."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Meeting the friends. That's a big deal."

Ron shrugged. "I'm taking her to dinner and I thought, well, maybe I could bring her here after."

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other. Ron had never brought a girlfriend over to meet them. "Uh," Harry said.

"Of course," Ginny said. "Don't get dessert. I'll ask Dobby to make something."

"That'd be great." Ron stood. "I should get going."

"We'll see you later then," Ginny said, standing too.

Harry remained seated; his mouth open.

Ron glanced at him and cleared his throat. "Right." He pulled his wand and Disapparated.

Ginny sat back down. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Harry said. "I think I'm going to go for a walk. I'll see you later."

Ginny watched him hurry from the room and sipped her tea. She knew Harry wanted nothing more than to have Ron and Hermione back together and every step that made that seem less likely cut him deeply. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. It was going to be a long night. She shook her head and set her tea cup in the sink. She had a Quidditch league match to prepare for. She wondered if Harry would return before she needed to leave.


	8. The Funeral

Boyka's funeral was among the most poignant that Hermione had ever attended, which was saying something, given that she'd attended dozens of funerals after the war. Bokya's mother gave a deeply moving tribute to her daughter, while her father sat stone-faced, silently weeping. Other people stood and spoke about what she'd meant to them, how generous she was, how kind, how talented. Boyka's artwork and photographs were on display around the room. She'd helped many of her fellow artists through hard times and was a devoted daughter and beloved sister. People were openly weeping at her loss. Hermione was deeply uncomfortable with all the outpouring of emotion, especially given her own complex feelings on the subject.

They went to Boyka's parents' house after the funeral. All the doors and windows were open with no warming charms as was the custom. Hermione stood quietly shivering by Viktor as he spoke with Boyka's parents and the other mourners. She was relieved when it was finally time to go to Todor and Pietra's house.

xXx

Their home was in a village called Kotel three hundred and fifty miles from Sophia where the funeral was held. Viktor had been there before, so he took Hermione side-along, which was never as smooth as when she took him, but they both arrived in one piece, which was all that mattered.

Hermione took a moment to catch her breath and looked at the house in front of them. The foundation and first story were stone, above that was a clapboard story and then a tiled roof. As she looked around at the picturesque village, she could see that it was a mixed Muggle/Magical community. Two other people Apparated into the yard right behind them. Viktor took her hand and led her inside.

The interior was small but obviously either Pietra or Todor had converted boxes or something into extra chairs. Based on the number, they were expecting a lot of people. Hermione hadn't realized that they were hosting a gathering after the funeral, but that made sense, given that Boyka, like Todor and Pietra, was an artist, and that community would want to gather and celebrate her.

The décor of the house was surprisingly simple. Hermione had expected it to look more like Todor's cluttered studio, which leaned toward the Bohemian. Pietra was in the kitchen frantically putting food on platters. Charmed knives were chopping fruit behind her.

She looked up when Hermione and Viktor came in. "Oh, you're here. I'm running behind. Where is a house elf when you need one?"

Hermione looked around at the kitchen. "Why don't you let me do this bit. You've already done the cooking. Even I can arrange food on platters. Go greet your guests."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "I didn't know Boyka that well. I can be your house elf. Go be with your friends."

Pietra had tears in her eyes and hugged her. "Thank you."

"Go." Hermione shooed her out of the kitchen.

"Do you need any help?" Viktor asked, clearly concerned as to whether she could manage such a task.

"No. I'm not nearly as incompetent in the kitchen as you think. Go talk to your friends. I've got this."

As Viktor reluctantly went back into the parlor, Hermione assessed the situation. What she didn't say was that mounds of food needing to be plated at funerals was something she was very familiar with. There had been loads of funerals after the war, and Mrs. Weasley had hosted many of the gatherings afterward. To the extent that she could back then, Hermione had helped in the kitchen. She finished arranging the fruit Pietra had started putting on a platter and took it out to the parlor. More people were arriving and there were hugs and tears all around. Hermione remained focused on the tasks of getting more food and pouring drinks. She was much more comfortable in this role than sitting around talking with the mourners. It wasn't as though she could speak about her interactions with Boyka, which consisted of one night, a couple of years ago, making dinner in Amsterdam, a drug-fueled orgy the next night, and a conversation a few months ago at Todor and Pietra's wedding. They'd talked about Mariana, who'd killed herself largely over what had happened in Amsterdam. Given that only one participant knew the pumpkin juice was spiked with ecstasy, that night had left everyone else reeling. It had nearly destroyed Viktor's friendship with Todor. If they hadn't also been cousins, it likely would have. It definitely destroyed Mariana, and the loss of Mariana destroyed Boyka, who felt doubly responsible, because it had been her cousin, Filip, who had spiked the juice, and she had invited him. Hermione shook her head sadly as she cast a spell to warm some mushroom tarts and started arranging them on a tray. She'd known for a long time that one evil act could ripple through time and cause destruction long after it was initiated, but perhaps foolishly, she'd thought she was done with that sort of thing at the end of war. In reality, evil didn't have to be on a massive scale to cause damage. Filip's casual disregard for everyone else in Amsterdam had had devastating repercussions. She took the tray out to the parlor and circulated among the guests. As she walked around, she noticed most people had changed out of their funeral clothes, so after she finished making another round with drinks, she went upstairs to change.

She'd just closed the door when it opened again, and Viktor stepped inside.

"Hey." He closed the door and she heard it lock with a non-verbal charm. He didn't need to say anything else. They weren't even fully undressed before he was inside of her, pressing her against the wall, both of them frantic to feel alive in the midst of all the misery. It was over quickly, and they both stood panting.

"I need to get changed," Hermione said.

Viktor kissed her forehead. "Me too."

They both cast cleansing charms and then dressed in more casual clothes before returning to the parlor and the sadness.

xXx

Friends and fellow artists flowed in and out of the house all day and into the night. Finally, around midnight, the last of the guests trickled out. Hermione fixed her first drink of the day, a strong glass of rakia, a popular local fruit brandy, and settled down on the sofa next to Viktor, who promptly laid down with his head in her lap. She chuckled and ran her fingers through his hair. Todor and Pietra were sitting across from them on a love seat.

"Thank you," Pietra said. "For all your work today."

"I was happy to help." Hermione sipped her drink.

"It has been a long day," Todor said.

Viktor murmured his agreement from Hermione's lap.

"You've been so busy," Pietra said. "Did you manage to actually eat anything."

"I've been nibbling all day," Hermione said.

"Me too," Todor said. "What is it about funerals that makes you so hungry?"

"I don't know," Pietra said. "Perhaps—"

The front door opened and Hermione looked up to see a small, blonde woman. "Pietra?"

"Ivet?" Pietra said, rising.

"I'm so sorry we're late. I had trouble getting a Portkey from London."

Hermione was barely paying attention to the exchange, focusing instead on her drink and the weight of Viktor's head in her lap, and then Dean Thomas walked in behind Ivet. Dean's eyes met hers and Hermione felt exposed and alarmed. What on earth was Dean doing there? She had her guard down. She was unprepared to face her other life in this setting.

"This is my boyfriend, Dean Thomas," Ivet was saying to Pietra, who shook hands with Dean.

Todor stood then and also shook hands with Dean and Ivet.

"Come sit down," Pietra said. "We were just having some rakia. Would you like a glass?"

Dean and Ivet both agreed, so Pietra went to pour them a drink.

"This is Hermione Granger," Todor said. "And that lout asleep in her lap is Viktor Krum."

Hermione waved awkwardly from her seat on the sofa.

"Hello, Hermione," Dean said. "How have you been?"

"You two know each other?" Ivet asked, her eyes wide at finding such illustrious people in Todor and Pietra's house.

"Yes," Dean said. "We went to school together."

"Oh?" Pietra handed them each a drink. "Have a seat."

Hermione hoped Viktor would wake and sit up, but he didn't. No doubt, he'd consumed more than his fair share of rakia during the day and the combination of grief and alcohol had him deeply asleep. Dean sat down in a chair next to her and Ivet sat on the other side of him. Pietra and Todor resumed their places on the loveseat and began a conversation about Boyka with Ivet in Bulgarian. Dean turned to Hermione.

"Do you speak Bulgarian?" he asked.

"Pretty well," Hermione admitted.

"I need to learn it. I really like Ivet, but every time we come here, I'm lost and I hate asking her to translate everything."

"I felt the same way when I first started dating Viktor."

"How'd you pick it up?" Dean asked.

"I got a primer for learning the basics, but honestly, what really helped the most was only speaking Bulgarian at home. After that, I was speaking fluently pretty quickly. Reading and writing took a lot longer."

Dean chuckled. "We aren't really at the living-together stage yet."

Hermione nodded. "How about I send you that primer then?"

"That'd be great," Dean said, smiling.

A silence settled between them as the other three continued chatting. Dean glanced down at Viktor and gave Hermione a half-hearted grin. "Seems so unlikely doesn't it? You and me here." He looked around.

Hermione wanted to sink through the sofa and right into the earth, anything to escape. Instead, she smiled awkwardly. "Small world."

"Yeah, I mean it's not so surprising I'd be with another artist, but I always figured you and Ron—"

"Things change."

"Or they just go back to the way they were. I mean," he said, looking at Viktor, "you dated him in school, didn't you?"

Hermione looked down at Viktor. "Yes." She had an almost overwhelming desire to tell Dean the truth. To explain the collapse of things with Ron, to confess the events of that last horrible night. Instead, she drank the last of the rakia in her glass and wished for more. For once, she didn't want to bear the brunt of someone else's disappointment. For once, she wanted it to be Ron's fault.

"Can't say as I blame you though."

Hermione looked up. "What?"

Dean shrugged. "Ron's a right bastard when he's drunk, and he was drunk a lot back then. I should know. I was right there with him, so was Seamus, and a lot of other people. Rough times after the war, you know?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

"Course my partying days are over now," he said, glancing at Ivet. "Can't say I miss it."

Hermione bit her bottom lip struggling with whether to ask what she wanted to know. She glanced again at Viktor asleep in her lap. He was softly snoring. "Do you see much of Ron these days?"

"Yeah, his brothers have a card game in the back of their shop on Wednesday nights that I go to when I can. Ron comes sometimes."

"They've had those games for a long time."

"A bit different now," Dean said. "Less drinking, more playing."

"That is different." She smiled tightly.

"He's different now too. I never see him drunk anymore. I'm pretty sure he blames the drink for losing you."

"Well…" Hermione said, glancing down at Viktor.

"It's certainly what the rest of us think," Dean continued.

Hermione looked back at him. "What?"

"Look," Dean said, leaning closer. "Don't think that what _Witch Weekly_ and the _Daily Prophet_ print is what people, who actually know you, believe. We know all that is garbage."

Hermione felt tears threaten. She blinked rapidly trying to stop herself from crying. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind.

"Dean?" Ivet said, resting her hand on his thigh. "We should go. It's late. They need some sleep, and Mum will be wondering where we are." She stood and Dean did too. He held out his hand to Hermione. "It was good seeing you."

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You too. And thank you."

Dean nodded, said his goodbyes to Todor and Pietra, and followed Ivet out into the night.

Hermione watched them go. All this time, she'd assumed that most people believed what the press said about her, but Dean made it seem possible that wasn't true? She looked around her and felt suddenly very foreign and out of place.


	9. Playing Pretend

Ron was nervous when he and Michelle landed in Islington. It was only two and a half miles across the city from Diagon Alley, but the weight of the visit made it seem longer. As they approached Grimmauld Place, Ron cast the spell to open the illusion that masked the location of the townhouse. Michelle whispered, "wow," when it was revealed. He knocked on the door, and a moment later, Ginny opened it. Ron introduced her to Michelle.

Ginny was all smiles. "Come in." She stepped back to let them in. "I can take your coats. Harry's in the parlor, go on up."

Ron took Michelle's hand and led her upstairs. Ginny followed. Harry was standing with his back to them in the middle of the parlor. Ron was pretty sure he'd been pacing. He had that anxious and irritated hunch that Ron recognized from the war, which wasn't a good sign. "Harry?" 

Harry turned around and gave them a tight smile. "Hiya."

"This is Michelle."

Harry shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," Michelle said.

Ron smiled at her. He'd introduced enough people to Harry to know it was an awe-inspiring experience for the uninitiated. He was impressed that she held it together so well.

"Have a seat," Harry said.

"Please," Ginny said.

Ron and Michelle took the sofa and Harry and Ginny each took a wing chair. Dobby appeared with a tea set and a cake plate. "This is Dobby," Harry said. "He lives here."

"Oh," Michelle said. When Dobby held out his tiny hand, she shook it.

"It is good to be meeting you," the little elf said.

"Yes, you too," she said, glancing at Ron.

"Dobby is a free elf," Ron said.

"Great," Michelle said, her voice a bit higher pitched than usual. Ron guessed that she'd never heard of such a thing, but at least she didn't seem opposed to the idea.

"Cake?" Ginny said.

xXx

Relief washed over Ginny, forty minutes later, when she closed the door behind Ron and Michelle. Harry stood frowning at the top of the stairs. She was exasperated with him. "Did you have to be like that?" 

"Like what? I didn't do anything."

"No, you didn't. You sat like a stone the whole time. You might as well have been a cardboard cutout. Come to think of it, that might've been better. At least a picture of you would've been smiling."

"I smiled," Harry grumbled.

"No, you didn't, and you didn't say ten words the whole time they were here."

"That's not true."

Ginny threw up her hands. "Yes, it is! What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I just didn't have much to say."

"You didn't have anything to say. You couldn't have been less welcoming."

Harry looked away from her. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is!"

He snorted and went into the kitchen. Dobby had already cleared away the tea things, but Harry wanted another cup. He held his wand to the kettle to make it boil.

Ginny stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.

"What?" he grumbled.

"You should apologize to Ron."

"I'm not doing that."

"Why not? You were rude."

"I'm rude?" Harry scoffed. "He's the one that brought her here."

"Yes, the first woman he's dated, that he's introduced us to, and you were an absolute git. How do you think that makes him feel?"

"I don't care how he feels. He shouldn't have brought her here."

"Why? She was lovely, in spite of the fact, that you were awful."

"Oh please, she's not real. He's not serious about her."

She shook her head. "Harry, you have to accept that—"

"No, I don't. Not when he's playing pretend. I don't have to accept anything."

"What are you talking about?" 

"Come on, don't tell me you can't see it."

"See what?" Ginny asked.

"She's Hermione, five years ago. He hasn't moved on. He's moved backwards."

"Harry—"

"Seriously, same height, same build. She's clearly very smart, and for heaven's sake, look at that hair."

"She's blonde," Ginny said weakly.

"Curls, loads and loads of wild curls. She's just a stand-in. He's not serious, and I'm not going to pretend he is. I'm not apologizing to him. He should be apologizing to us!"

Ginny sighed, holding up her hands. "Okay. Okay. I see your point."

"Good." Harry continued grumbling while he made his tea.

xXx

The next day, Ron showed up for breakfast as he often did, but Ginny wished he'd given it more time. Harry was still irritated about last night, but Ron was all smiles as he sat down.

Dobby sent a platter of bacon, eggs, and mushrooms to the table.

Ron filled his plate and looked from Ginny to Harry. "So, what did you think? She's great, right?"

"Lovely," Ginny said, and busied herself fixing her tea.

Dobby sent the toast holder over and then disappeared.

Harry began buttering a piece of toast.

"I was thinking maybe you two would like to go to a concert with us, she—"

"No," Harry said firmly.

Ginny reached for two pieces of toast and made herself a quick sandwich and grabbed her tea before heading upstairs. "Gotta run." She didn't want to be in the middle of this.

Ron glanced up from his plate. "But it would just be—"

"No," Harry repeated.

Ron set down his fork. "Why?"

"I'm not doing this. Not with her."

Ron frowned. "What's wrong with her?"

"Don't do that," Harry said.

"Don't do what?"

"Play pretend. Not with me. Not about this," Harry said, pointing his butter knife at Ron.

"What are you talking about? I'm not playing pretend. Michelle is great. I'm lucky to have met her."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I don't have a problem with Michelle. She seems perfectly nice. My problem is with you and what you're doing."

"I'm moving on. Isn't that what you lot have been telling me to do?"

"No, you're not," Harry scoffed. "You're going backwards."

Ron's jaw clenched and his face flushed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not the one making a fool of myself." 

"She left me!" Ron shouted.

"Right!" Harry shouted back. "So, now you've gone and got another one just like her."

"Michelle is nothing like Hermione!"

"That's a load of bollocks and you know it. She's smart, self-possessed, and confident."

"How would you know? You barely spoke to her."

"She walked in here like it was no big deal." Harry held up his hand. "Shook my hand like it was no big deal. You and I both know how hard that is for people, but she handled it with ease."

Ron snorted. "You think a lot of yourself."

Harry frowned at him. "I know who I am and how people react to me. You, on the other hand, seem to have completely lost track of who you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Whatever you're doing with that girl, I can promise you, it's not fair to her."

"You don't even know her!"

"I doubt you do either." Harry's tone even and grim. "Can you even see her? Or do you just see Hermione, as she might have been, if the war hadn't happened?"

"That's not—" Ron sputtered. "You don't—" He blinked back tears. "Fuck you, Harry!" Ron stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Ginny came downstairs and sat across from Harry. "So, that went well."

"About how I expected." Harry picked up a piece of toast but then threw it back down on the plate. "I'm so sick of the both of them."

"I know."

"I miss them so much."

"I know," Ginny said again and reached across the table to squeeze his hand.

xxx

There was post waiting for Viktor and Hermione when they came downstairs the next morning.

Todor was already up, but Pietra was still sleeping. "Normally, she's up before I am. But I don't think she slept much last night."

"This has been hard for her," Viktor said. "She and Boyka were so close."

"Yes," Todor said, handing them their mail.

Hermione had a note from Thomas informing her that they could begin testing her new style of Apparition as soon as she returned, and that everyone was eager for her to do so. Hermione squelched her glee. This was neither the time nor the place to register her triumph. She'd waited for this for such a long time, though, that inside she was cheering, and there were fireworks.

"Huh," Viktor said beside her.

"What?" Todor asked.

"The national team has asked me to be their Seeker for the World Cup next year. They want me to come to practice for the next six weeks."

"Six weeks?" Hermione said, looking up from her letter. "Why if the cup isn't until next year?"

"Because the team is composed of players from other teams, so practice has to be piecemeal around regular Quidditch schedules," Viktor said.

"Are you going to do it?" Todor asked.

"I cannot turn it down. It is a great honor."

"But won't you be playing with some of your old teammates?" Hermione asked.

Viktor nodded. "Yes, I will," he said with a smirk.

Todor chuckled and shook his head. "You just want to rub their noses in your success."

"No. I will be professional. My success stands on its own." He smiled.

"But six weeks…" Hermione said, already dreading such a long time on her own.

"Stay with me," Viktor said, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

"I can't. I just got approval to start testing my latest project. I need to go back to work."

"Your work can wait. You set your own schedule, do you not?"

"I do, but I don't want to wait on this is. It's a huge project and if it works, it…well, let's just say it's significant. There will be loads of testing though, so I don't want to delay, and neither does anyone else." She held up the letter from Thomas. "They're anxious for me to return."

A slight frown crossed his features but rapidly disappeared. He shrugged. "Then go. I will return when practice is over."

"Right," she said, gnawing on her bottom lip.

"Let's eat breakfast," Todor said, opening the fridge, clearly trying to ease the sudden tension in the room.

xXx

Ron avoided Harry and Ginny for the next month. Angry at Harry for his insight, Ron doubled down on his relationship with Michelle. He sat at his tiny bistro-style table across from her and watched her sip her tea and nibble on a piece of toast while she read the paper. Her blonde curls were wild. As yet un-tamed for work, they tumbled over her shoulders. A shiver ran up his spine, and he could practically see Hermione standing next to him laughing. A tight knot gripped his stomach and he set down his fork, his breakfast untouched. What had he done?

Michelle looked up at him with clear blue eyes and smiled. "Not hungry this morning? That's not like you. Are you feeling okay."

"I'm fine." Ron smiled weakly back at her, trying to focus on those blue eyes, so different from Hermione's dark brown ones. He told himself that lots of people had a type. He wasn't doing anything wrong. She was great. But even as he thought it, he felt the pull of his bond with Hermione. How far could things really go with Michelle? Realistically, if he honestly wanted to make a go of it with her, or someday marry her, he would have to break that bond. The thought left him with a hollow feeling in his gut. In spite of himself, he knew Harry was right. His relationship with Michelle wasn't real, couldn't be, because he wasn't willing to break the bond with Hermione: not for Michelle, not for Hermione, not even for himself. As far as he was concerned, the bond was fixed, permanent. It didn't matter who else they were with, where they were, what they were doing, they belonged together, and he had no interest in changing that. He picked up his fork. "I'm just thinking about a project I'm working on."

She smiled at him again, and he started eating. He'd sort out what to do about this mess later.


	10. Beltane

The invitation to open the spring festival of Beltane at the large magical circle in Devon came at an inconvenient time for Hermione. She was in the first phase of testing for her new method of Apparition, and she was exhausted. Designing the tests, doing the initial ones herself, and then setting up a schedule for the other Unspeakables to begin testing was a tremendous amount of work, and coming home alone to face Viktor's empty apartment wasn't helping. She remained staunchly sober all week to keep her head clear for work, but Fridays and Saturdays she was off the wagon, trying to relax, which meant she spent Sunday sobering up to face Monday. Viktor had been gone for a month and still had two weeks until he returned. Just a few days later, he would start back with Puddlemere United, so it wasn't as if he'd really be home. She'd been spending a few nights a week sleeping in her rooms at the Department of Mysteries, comforted by the sounds of the living building around her. She looked at the invitation again. Harry and Ron were also invited. The three of them were locked in this dance. The Golden Trio: always willing to rise to the occasion, even if the occasion was just a festival. Early on, groups had tried to invite Harry alone, but he always refused. Harry firmly believed that their success was a joint effort. He wasn't about to start going it alone after the war. Hermione sighed. She was fairly certain Harry just wanted company for the endless ceremonies. Tossing aside the invitation, she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the tension headache that was starting.

She'd have to see Ron. More than that, Ron's whole family would likely be there. She wasn't at her best and was worried they would be able to see that, to see how broken she was, how desperate. The thought left her hollow. Her public persona, which she'd taken to thinking of as Jane, was hard enough to maintain on a good day. Increasingly, she felt like two people. At work, she was serious, driven, and willing to engage in debate. In public, she was flippant, never answering a question seriously, and never sticking around for a follow up. She wore clothes and charmed makeup like armor. At work, she didn't bother, because the other Unspeakables didn't ask about her personal life. Aside from the occasional inquiry from Thomas on how she was doing, and that one visit from Jones, her coworkers didn't pry, for which, she was eternally grateful. To make sure that it remained unnecessary for them to question her, she was scrupulously careful about her drinking, making absolutely certain she never went to work after having a drink. The Department of Mysteries could be a very dangerous place. No level of impairment was acceptable there, nor would it be tolerated, so she never risked it. The idea of rallying for the festival seemed impossibly hard, but she knew she'd do it anyway. She sighed again and went to shower and get ready for work.

xxx

The festival of Beltane was on a Saturday, but Hermione treated it like any other work day and didn't drink, which was a challenge as her anxieties mounted. The festival was a typical English fête, a family holiday with food and games. The event was casual, which prevented Hermione from wearing some stunning gown that would make her feel like someone else. She considered briefly wearing traditional robes, but no one else her age would be doing that, which would just draw more attention to her. Instead, she pulled on a pair of jeans, a lightweight cotton jumper, and a thin leather jacket. As she was tying her boots, she glanced in the mirror. Aside from wearing newer clothes, she looked a lot like she'd looked when they were on the run in the woods. She'd intended to put her hair in a long braid, which is how she generally wore it at work, but that was also how she'd worn it in the woods, and that felt wrong somehow. She didn't have time to change, having put off going as long as possible, so she left her hair down and curly. She drew in a slow, calming breath and Disapparated to Devon.

The stone circle was only a few miles from the Burrow and as she walked across the field toward the festivities, she was flooded with memories. Every time she'd stayed at the Burrow, they'd walked these fields to the stone circle. It was an easy walk, filled with long conversations about the goings on at school when they were young and the plans to defeat Voldemort when they were older. After the war, the stones were a goal. If they could walk to the stones and back, they were healthy. It was months before they could do the whole trek.

xXx

Ron at his watch. "Why is she always the last one here? Remember when she was always on time, early even?"

"She's not late yet." Harry checked his own watch.

Ron let out an annoyed snort. "Yet," he repeated. He was doubly irritated because Michelle wasn't going to be able to come until the afternoon, and he hadn't really wanted to stay that long. Even though he hadn't seen Harry and Ginny for weeks, none of them mentioned that. "Where is she? We're supposed to start in—" But then he saw her coming across the field, and his heart clenched. She looked like herself, like he hadn't seen her look in ages. Without meaning to, he reached out with his magic. He could see her stop. She looked right at him, and even though she was still probably fifty yards away, she felt close, like her eyes were only inches from his. But then he felt it, the bounce back, she held him at arms-length through the bond, which was probably good, because he felt like he could drown in her. All thoughts of Michelle, Harry and Ginny, and the fête fell away. He could have run to her, swept her up, kissed her, made love to her, as if they were alone. He blushed and closed his eyes. No doubt, she'd felt all that and had responded like a reasonable person. He cleared his throat.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

Ron wiped a hand down his face. "Yeah. Hermione's here."

Moments later, she was standing with them. Harry and Ginny each hugged her. Ron lifted his chin at her. He knew he was blushing. "Hermione."

"Ron." She gave him a pointed look. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.

A ministry official came over and told them they would be starting in a couple of minutes. Harry was to give a speech, so the official asked him to come talk to the event planner about the schedule. "Sure," Harry said. He gave Ron and Hermione an exasperated eye roll. The guy must be new. They'd done this dozens of times. There was no need to go over it. Ginny followed Harry for moral support, leaving Ron and Hermione standing alone.

Hermione opened her mouth as though she were going to say something. Ron found himself edgy with anticipation. She'd never addressed the bond directly, but he'd been expecting her to ever since she'd opened her end more fully. Instead, she closed her mouth and looked away. "What's taking so long?" she muttered. "It's a festival, not a raid on Death Eaters."

Ron shrugged. "I guess that guy is new and wanting to do a good job."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

xXx

There was a squeal behind them and a blue-haired, little boy came running toward them. Ron scooped up Teddy and swung him around. Teddy squealed again. Hermione smiled and Teddy reached out for her. "Minny. Where you been?"

Hermione took him and gave him a hug. Instantly, his hair went red like Ron's. "I've been working, Teddy."

"You come play with me," Teddy said, squirming to get down. She set him down, and he grabbed her hand and tugged.

"I can't right now, I have to help Ron and Harry."

"Come on," Teddy pouted.

"Teddy, leave her alone," Lupin said, as he walked up. "She's busy."

"No. Come play," Teddy said, his face reddening.

"Maybe later," Hermione said, smiling at him.

Lupin picked up his son. "Sorry," he mouthed to Ron and Hermione. "Come on, let's go get a cauldron cake."

Teddy perked up. "Okay."

Lupin gave Hermione a quick peck on the cheek. "Good seeing you."

"You too," she said. She watched as they walked away. After the war, she'd played with Teddy almost every day when Andromeda would bring him to the Burrow. She would make up games, and as she healed, would add magical components. Teddy had been a bright spot in what was an otherwise a very bleak time. It broke her heart that she rarely saw him anymore. He was getting so big. She glanced at Ron. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then the ministry official called for them, and he turned away and walked toward the gazebo. Hermione reluctantly followed. She needed to address the bond. They needed to sort out what to do. She'd let go of the idea that he would have to come to her if he wanted it broken. For whatever reason, he hadn't done that, and over time it was getting stronger and more difficult to manage. Dropping her resistance had both helped and made it more difficult. She knew from her research that time and distance apart made it worse. Proximity eased it, which was one of the reasons she didn't skip today. Being close to him, even for short periods, made it easier to manage. On the other hand, while the bond was easier to manage after being with Ron, her feelings were not. After every encounter, the stark reality of all that she'd lost loomed large, and her relationship with Viktor paled in comparison. Increasingly, she felt isolated from him. He took every opportunity to play that came his way, and she couldn't help feeling like it was all just an excuse to get away from her. She frowned at the thought. She knew that wasn't fair. Viktor always invited her to join him, but she had her own work to attend to. Unfortunately, in the tug of war for her time, the Department of Mysteries always beat Viktor, just as Quidditch always beat her.

As she stood next to Ron while Harry delivered his speech, Hermione stared out over the fields. Everything was slipping away from her again, and she felt helpless to stop it. She glanced at Ron, who was also staring off in the distance, and wondered how his life was going.


	11. A New Flat

Two weeks after Beltane, Ron was following a witch through Diagon Alley looking at flats. He'd seen four so far and the afternoon was waning. All the flats had been large and fabulous, but he didn't like any of them. None of them felt like home, but he was beyond sick of living above his shop. As long as he lived above Weasley's Enchanted Electronics, he would be working twenty-four hours a day. He needed some space and some breathing room. The realtor was very excited about every place she'd shown him. He wished he could muster some of her enthusiasm.

At least living above his own shop was loads better than living above Fred and George's. When he'd first started charming televisions, he'd sold them from a corner in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but he'd quickly outgrown that and opened his own shop, down the alley, in what had been an enchanted shoe shop. He'd moved into the flat above and worked day and night for the next eighteen months. He currently had more gold in the bank than he'd ever imagined and was starting to sell to foreign buyers as well. The business was in two parts: selling the sets and other small magical electronics and broadcasting Quidditch matches. Managing both sides of the business was a shocking amount of work, and yet, somehow, he was handling it. He smiled to himself as the realtor opened the door of a second-floor flat in one of the nicest buildings in Diagon Alley. The flat had three bedrooms as well as high ceilings, crown molding, wainscoting, dark wood floors, and granite counter tops. There were built in bookshelves, broom racks, and more floor space than he'd had in his other two flats combined.

"What do you think?" the realtor asked. There was a twinkle in her eye that told Ron that she thought this place was perfect.

Ron looked around, trying to imagine living there, trying to imagine it as home, but there was no use. Despite being really nice, it wasn't for him. "I don't think so."

The realtor deflated. "Oh."

"It's very nice though."

"Right." The realtor smiled weakly. "Well, as long as we're here, there's a flat on the top floor I need to check. It's just gone on the market, and I sent cleaners over, but I haven't used them before, and I want to make sure they did a good job. Then I guess it's back to the drawing board with you. Perhaps, you should consider a cottage or a terraced house. Maybe even something Muggle."

Ron shrugged. "Maybe." He didn't want to deal with a garden though. He'd spent his whole childhood chucking gnomes out of his parents' garden and pulling weeds. He didn't fancy spending his adulthood the same way. "What's the flat on the top floor like?"

"Oh, it's tiny," the realtor said as they walked out to the lobby. She tapped her wand against the elevator call button. "Only one bedroom and the balcony overlooks Muggle London. Not a very picturesque part either. It's not for you." The elevator arrived and the doors opened. "I'll only be a tic."

"I'll come with you." Ron stuck his hands in his pockets. "Might as well take a look, since I'm here."

"Suit yourself."

Ron followed her into the elevator. As soon as the doors opened on the top floor, he instantly felt at home, and they were still in the hallway. She drew her wand and opened the door to what he immediately knew was his flat. He couldn't explain it, but it felt more like home than anywhere he'd seen. He had an instant sense of belonging. The place was basically a miniature version of the flat he'd just looked at. The living room, bedroom, and balcony were large. There was an eat-in kitchen with room for a small table and chairs and the light was nice. "I'll take it."

The realtor's eyebrows shot up. "I thought you wanted something bigger."

"I thought so too." Ron shrugged. "But this is perfect."

"Well, excellent. I've got the papers with me."

"Great. All I need is a quill."

xXx

Hermione dropped her bag on the kitchen counter, knocking over an empty wine bottle. She groaned. She really needed to clean up before Viktor got back. The place was a mess. Lately, she'd mostly come to the flat to shower and change clothes, which were strewn all over the place. Most of the surfaces were covered in books, parchment, and wine glasses. The ashtray, which wasn't even supposed to be inside, was overflowing. She couldn't let him see it like this. He'd been furious the last time he'd come home to a mess, and the result was an ugly scene. Sighing, she drew her wand and cast a cleaning charm on the kitchen. She picked up the ashtray, dumped the contents in the bin, and went to put it back on the balcony. She stopped for a moment as she stepped outside and took a deep breath. The early evening air was crisp but warmer than it had been. Summer was coming. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she had a sense of wellbeing that she didn't generally associate with Viktor's flat. For some reason, standing there in the fading light, it felt more like home.

Smiling, she set down the ashtray and went back inside to finish cleaning.

xXx

Viktor arrived at the flat later than he had initially hoped. Practice with the Bulgarian National Team had gone very well but he was glad to be home. Viktor blew out a slow breath. He never Apparated directly into the flat anymore. He never knew what he would find, and it made coming home somewhat anxiety inducing, despite the fact that he was glad to be there. He stared at the door for a moment, conscious of the copy of _Witch Weekly_ he had in his bag. He shook his head and cast the charm to unlock the door and went in. He was somewhat surprised to find a clean flat, very clean, sparkling even, as though it had just been done. Still, he wasn't going to quibble. Hermione was sitting in the parlor reading and drinking a glass of wine. She stood when he opened the door. "Hullo you."

He smiled. "I am back."

"I see that."

He set down his luggage. "It was a good trip."

"I'm glad. You want a glass of wine?"

"Yes." He followed her into the kitchen and pulled the magazine from his bag and set it on the counter.

Hermione handed him the wine and looked at the magazine. "You're reading _Witch Weekly_ now?"

"No. Someone left it in my locker."

"That's a weird gift. Disgusting rag."

"I do not think it was meant as a gift. I think it was meant as a warning."

"A warning?" Hermione's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "How's that?"

"You have not read it then?"

She snorted. "Hardly. I wouldn't wrap fish in that trash."

He opened the magazine. There was a photo of her and Ron at the festival of Beltane. She was taking Teddy from Ron, and the loop made a warm tableau. They could have been a little family. The caption implied she was making a play for Ron while Viktor was out of town.

She looked at Viktor, who seemed not so much jealous as curious. "What do you want me to say? You know I opened the spring festival with Ron and Harry."

"Yes."

"Then what? Are we doing the jealous thing now? Because there's a stack of eastern European newspapers over there that include photos of you with a variety of women. Would you like me to pull them out and spread them over the counter?"

He pointed to the photo. "The caption on this—"

"The captions on all the photos of you imply you're looking for a nice Pureblood girl now. Are you looking for a nice Pureblood girl, Viktor?"

"No," he said quietly.

"Then why would you assume this caption is correct when none of the ones about you are?" She was clearly trying to keep her anger in check, which he appreciated.

He closed the magazine and chucked it in the bin. "That is a good point."

"I don't understand. Since when do you care about the tabloids?"

He looked at her and sighed. "I guess, in that photo you look so…happy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I do not see much of that these days."

"How could you? You're hardly ever here."

"I have to work."

"Really? You have to play for Puddlemere United and the Bulgarian National Team as well as charity events."

"This year, yes."

"Fine. That's your choice, but don't complain about not seeing me happy when you're never here."

"You could come with me. You have a much more flexible job than I do."

She blew out a calming breath. "That may be true, but I'm in the middle of a massive project—"

"That you cannot tell me about."

"Not yet," Hermione said, anger edging into her voice. "But eventually you'll see that it is important. I can't go popping off to matches all over the world while I'm in the middle of it."

"Fine. I am going to take a shower." He could hear her go out on the balcony as he walked down the hall.

xXx

Ron was so delighted with the new flat, that with Dobby's help, he'd moved in immediately. He was also delighted that Michelle liked it. She'd been particularly pleased that he'd offered her a drawer and Apparition privileges. He wrapped a towel around his waist and used another one to rub over his head. He opened the bathroom door to find Michele still lying naked across the bed. She opened her eyes when he stepped back into the room. "Shower's free."

She yawned and stretched before pulling on one of his T-shirts. "We've made a right mess of the bed. How about take care of that while I'm in the shower?"

"Cheeky." Ron snapped a towel at her. She stepped out of the way and flashed him a grin before going into the bathroom and closing the door. He snorted. She was fun. He stepped over to the other side of the bed where his wand rested on the nightstand. He picked it up and cast one charm to clean the sheets and another to remake the bed. He pulled a fresh pair of boxers from his dresser and happened to look out the bedroom window as he pulled them on. Unlike his balcony, his bedroom window overlooked Diagon Alley, and there, down the street on the other side, was Hermione, smoking on a balcony. His heart dropped. Even though she wasn't directly across from him, she was only fifty or so feet away. She couldn't see him because he was inside. The only reason he could see her is that he happened to be standing in exactly the right spot. He hadn't realized he was quite so close to Viktor's flat because the entrance to his building was on the other side. It was hard to tell in the fading light, but he was pretty sure Hermione was wearing a bathrobe. She was smoking and staring out at the night and his heart ached at the sight of her.

"Ooh, you remade the bed. Excellent," Michelle said behind him. "I love getting into fresh sheets. What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Ron said, drawing the curtains. Just enjoying the view of the alley. Everyone's heading home for the night.

Michelle yawned. "Yes, time for bed." She patted the spot next to her and Ron crawled in. She settled against him and not for the first time he marveled at how much she felt like Hermione in his arms. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation and told himself that there was nothing wrong with having a type.

xXx

Ron dreamed about Hermione, but it wasn't his typical dream about her. It wasn't a memory, instead it was more of a fantasy, or perhaps it was a prophecy. He wasn't sure. In the dream, they stood in the parlor of Grimmauld Place, and he said he was not unrepentant, that he was sorry, and she understood that he meant for everything. He told her their breakup was entirely his fault, and she nodded and said she loved him, that she always had. She hugged him, and he hugged her back and said "yes."

"All right," Michele said next to him. "Take your time, they won't be ready for twenty minutes."

"What?" Ron said, coming awake.

"It'll take me twenty minutes. Take a shower if you like."

"Okay." Ron had no idea what he was agreeing to, but he got out of bed and into the shower anyway.

The hot water felt good, but his dream, unlike a typical one, didn't fade. Being awake made it more solid somehow, and it started to feel more like a plan than a dream. He shook his head and rinsed the shampoo from his hair. It was a stupid idea. They were never going to be in Harry and Ginny's parlor like that? Besides, just saying he was sorry wasn't going to mean anything after all that time. He pressed his forehead against the tile and turned off the tap. He needed to shake it off and go out there with his lovely girlfriend, who was bright and fun and right in the other room. He sighed and grabbed a towel.

As he got dressed, he checked for Hermione on Viktor's balcony down the alley. He was rewarded with her leaning against the railing drinking something hot. He could see the steam rising from her cup as she stared out at the day.

"What are you looking at?" Michelle asked from the doorway.

"Ron turned around. "Nothing. Just checking the weather."

"Right," Michelle said, her eyes narrowing, making him wonder how long he'd been standing at the window. Then he realized he only had one pant leg pulled up. He quickly pulled on the other one.

"Your pancakes are ready," she said.

He glanced back at Hermione one last time before going to eat his breakfast.

Tension hung thick as he sat down at the table, but he wasn't sure what it was about or if it was even real. Hermione sat like a ghost at the table, distracting him, horning in on his morning, and he resented it. Michelle seemed to resent it too as she sat sullen, picking at her pancakes without any real appetite. Ron smiled, determined to refocus on Michelle. "These are delicious," he said, shoveling in a big bite.


	12. Godric's Hollow

Harry held Ginny's hand. "Keep them closed."

"Come on, Harry," Ginny said.

He was so excited. "Just a little further. All right. Open them." 

Ginny opened her eyes to a see a modest home on a town square. Next to it was a magical plaque. "I don't—"

"Remember when you said you weren't sure about raising our kids in London, but you didn't want to live on a farm again either?"

"Yeah, but, it's not like—"

"I know, but it just got me thinking that I own this house as well. A small town is kind of the best of both worlds, eh?"

Ginny looked back at the house. "Is this—?" She looked around. "Godric's Hollow?" He'd brought her here once after the war, but it was nighttime then, and the house was just a burned-out hull.

"Yes. I've been working on it for the past few weeks. I mean, not just me, I've had some help. Ron helped clear out the old house, and then your dad and all your brothers helped me build the new one. Seamus brought Lavender out one afternoon, and she did the windows. Did you know her grandfather was a magical glazier?"

"Really?" Ginny said, looking at all the neatly framed windows.

"Yeah, he took her to work with him until she went to school, so she knows all these glass spells."

"They look really nice."

Harry smiled. "That's nothing. It's what she's done on the inside of the windows that's so impressive. We've mostly done the outside though. There's loads of work left indoors, but I thought I better bring you in before we set to on that. Come in." He took her up the stone path to the front door. "Your Mum helped with the garden."

Ginny looked at the tidy lawn and the rose bushes. "It's really nice."

"I think so too, apparently my mum loved her garden, so she restored what she could remember. There's a lot of space left for us to pick what we like. I didn't want to do everything, I just wanted to surprise you with some of it."

Ginny smiled at him. "You certainly did surprise me. I can't believe you've done all this."

He grinned at her. Surprising Ginny wasn't easy to do. She always had a sense of when he was up to something, but she'd been busy remodeling the Three Broomsticks to modernize it a bit to suit her tastes. He opened the door to what was essentially one very large room with roughed-in walls and a staircase in the center leading upstairs and another to the cellar. "So, what do you think we should do in here?"

Ginny laughed.

xXx

Ron was reluctantly at a cocktail party with Michelle. Her friends, David and Emily, had moved in together and were having friends over for a housewarming. Ron sipped pumpkin juice while everyone else enjoyed the excuse for midweek drinking. He spent most of the party nodding and offering half smiles to conversations he wasn't really following. He looked at Michelle as she chatted amicably with Emily and another couple whose names he'd already forgotten. She'd been so excited about this party. She'd been working such long hours at St. Mungo's that she didn't have a lot of free time to be social. They'd been together for a few months and he enjoyed her more than he'd enjoyed anyone but Hermione. She was a very talented witch. She worked hard as a junior healer. She deserved a night out, so he sipped his juice and smiled and nodded at another comment directed his way.

As the party got more crowded, louder and hotter, he stepped out on to the balcony to enjoy the crisp evening air and take a breather. David and Emily lived on the fifth floor of a block of flats in a mixed Muggle/Magical building right across from the Ministry of Magic, which even at this time of night, had people coming and going. He saw Hermione Apparate on to the street in front of the Ministry. One of the people coming out of the Ministry stopped and talked to her. Ron stood transfixed.

"There you are," Michelle said. "What are you doing out here?" She glanced down at the street below. "Seriously?" She put her hands on her hips.

"What?" Ron said, feeling his ears go hot. "I came out here to get some fresh air. It's kind of stuffy in there, don't you think?"

"You came out here to stare at your ex-girlfriend," Michelle whispered angrily.

"Don't be ridiculous. How was I supposed to know she'd be going into the Ministry at this hour?"

Michelle glared at him. "Whatever." She turned around and went back inside. He looked back down at the street just as Hermione looked up. He knew she couldn't possibly see him in the dark, although she might have a sense that he was about, but it felt like she could see right through him, like she could see how lame he was, as if his inability to move on was written all over him. She glanced away and went into the building. Ron sighed and rejoined the party, but Michelle was already saying her goodbyes when he stepped inside.

Ron smiled weakly at the others and followed Michelle out of the flat. She didn't say a word to him and Disapparated the moment they were in the hallway. He wondered if she'd gone back to his flat or back to her parents' place.

He was somewhat surprised to find her at her there when he Apparated into his living room. "Hey," he said. "Look, I'm sorry."

"Really? Are you?" She went into the bedroom and began stuffing her clothes into a duffle bag.

Ron sighed and leaned against his bedroom's doorframe. "I'm sorry you're upset. What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm getting out of here. You're impossible."

"Seriously? I just stepped out for some fresh air. I can't control where Hermione goes or what she does."

"I don't expect you to, but do you have to stop everything you're doing and stare at her every time you see her?"

"I don't do that." He knew that was a lie. He did do that.

"Yes, you do. You're pathetic. You say her name in your sleep."

"I…no, that could be any…the war—"

"No! Don't blame this on the war and don't try to pretend I'm hearing something else. She has a pretty distinctive name."

"Michelle."

She held up her hand palm out. "Don't. It's my fault. I don't know what I was thinking. I should have left the first time I heard it. You're not over her. I'm not sure you'll ever be over her."

"I am over her. I'm with you. I thought we had something good here."

"Oh please! You know what? I'm pretty great. I don't deserve to be a substitute."

"You're not."

"Oh, I know I'm not. You're the problem here. You might've been some hot shot in the war, and you're a great salesman, and a clever inventor, but you're pathetic at relationships."

"Hey!"

She put her hands on her hips. "Have you even told her you want her back?"

"What? No. I'm with you."

"Not anymore you're not. If you're smart, you'll pull yourself together and go tell her how you feel, because you'll be worthless to anyone else as long you're holding on to her."

"Wait a minute." Ron reached for her. "Just wait. I can fix this. She's with Krum. I'm with you. I can be better."

She sidestepped his reach. "Spare me!" Without bothering to zip the bag, she grabbed it and Disapparated. 

A jumper had fallen out of her bag. Ron picked it up. "Bloody hell." He looked around at the drawer she'd emptied and left open and the gap where her clothes had been in his closet. He threw in the jumper and slammed the door. "Fuck!"

He looked out of his bedroom window toward Viktor's balcony. Hermione wasn't there, so he went out on to his own balcony on the opposite side of the flat and stared out over Muggle London. He contemplated for a moment what it would take to get Michelle to forgive him, but then he let it go. There was no point. She wasn't wrong. She did deserve better, and he did need to do something about Hermione. He just wasn't sure what.

In the kitchen, under the sink was an unopened bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. A client had given it to him as a thank-you gift. Ron thought about opening it, but then decided that the decision to drink when distraught was what had landed him in this position in the first place. Drinking, he decided, was best left to celebrations with friends, and even then, to a minimum. He sighed and looked at his watch. Margaret should be getting off work soon. In a couple of hours, her kids would be in bed, and he'd go around and see what sort of mood she was in.

xXx

Two days later, Harry was coming out of the Auror's office when he ran into Hermione.

"Hey you," she said smiling. "What brings you to the Ministry?"

"I was just debriefing on a raid we did last night," Harry said as they continued down the hall.

Hermione stopped. "What? Why were you on a raid? Aren't you meant to be teaching?"

Harry turned to face her and smiled. "I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. It wouldn't do not to keep my hand in." He continued walking.

Hermione caught up. "Wouldn't it?"

"No. It's fine. The Aurors know what they're doing. And for that matter, so do I."

"I know that. I…"

"What?" Harry asked.

"Nothing. It just feels weird to know you're out there chasing monsters without us."

Harry chuckled. "Miss the war, Hermione?"

"Not at all, but it seems like you do."

"It's not like that. I'm not on the run, working in the shadows. I'm with an elite team of witches and wizards. It's fine, really."

"What does Ron think?"

Harry shook his head. "He thinks I should stay at Hogwarts."

"Quite right."

Harry snorted. "You two are so in sync. It's a wonder you ever broke up."

"Oh, please."

"It's true, you know. I can't tell you how often I'm talking with him and he says the exact same thing that you said the last time I spoke to you. It's weird."

"Well..." Hermione said quietly.

Harry looked at her. He hadn't meant to upset her. "What are you and Viktor doing this weekend? Ginny would like to have you around to the house since she didn't get to go to dinner last time."

"Um, I'm not sure of his schedule. He's due home tonight so I'll ask him then."

"Great, just send me an owl. I've been wanting to show you the new house anyway."

"New house?"

"Well, old house really. We've been working on the house in Godric's Hollow. The upstairs isn't finished, but the downstairs is mostly done. We could have dinner there."

"You're leaving London?"

"Not right away. I mean, initially we'll probably be out there only on the odd weekend, but eventually, when we're ready to have a family, we'll probably move there."

"Oh."

"What?" Harry said. "Apparition being what it is, what difference does it make?"

"I don't know. I just…I guess I like the idea of you being close. I mean, Grimmauld Place isn't far from Viktor's flat. I could walk there."

Harry cocked his head at her. "Isn't it your flat too?"

"Of course...yes."

He raised his eyebrows. "Okay. But Ginny and I aren't moving any time soon. Come to dinner. I'd love to show you what we've done."

"Sure," Hermione said, sounding anything but sure. "I'll check with Viktor and get back to you."

They'd arrived at the elevator banks. Harry got in and Hermione continued down the hall. Harry shook his head as the elevator hurdled him toward the main hall. Not for the first time, it struck him that things between Viktor and Hermione weren't what they seemed.

xXx

Ginny was digging around in the cabinet under the sink when Harry returned to Grimmauld Place that evening. He smiled at the view of her bottom in the air. "What are you looking for?"

"That hammer Dad charmed for us."

"I let Ron borrow it."

Ginny pulled her head out of the cabinet and sat on the floor. "Bloody hell, Harry."

"Sorry." He set his school bag down on the kitchen table. "I'll drop him a note."

Ginny sighed. "Could you do it now? I'd like to get it back before my next day off and who knows how long it will take him to find it."

"I could just send Dobby to get it if it's that important."

"Don't do that." Ginny got up and stretched. "I've run that poor elf ragged lately."

"All right." Harry sat down and penned a note to Ron Ginny put the kettle on. He gave the letter to Pigwidgeon. "I ran into Hermione at the Ministry today."

"Oh, yeah? How's she doing?"

"Okay, I guess. I invited her and Viktor to dinner at the other house this weekend."

Ginny looked surprised. "That's great."

"She said she'd get back to me about which day was good for them."

xXx

Hermione was late getting home that night, so she walked in the door casting cleaning spells. As the magic worked, she ran a bath and got a glass of wine and put on some music. Things had been tense between her and Viktor the last time he'd been home, so she was hoping to ease some of that by having the flat clean and welcoming for his arrival. Looking around at the clothes flying and the dishes washing, she drank the wine. She cast a charm to send the rubbish to the chute at the end of the hall, poured another glass of wine, and went to get in the bath.

xXx

Puddlemere United was three and two for the European series and Viktor was disappointed and disgruntled. A chaser and a beater had retired at the end of last year. While their replacements were talented, they hadn't fully gelled with the rest of the team and the resulting losses were hard to take. He Apparated to the hall outside his flat and stood at the door wondering what he'd find when he opened it. He'd left for Europe under a cloud. Sighing he touched his wand to the door. It opened to a couple of lamps lit and music softly playing. The album was one of his favorites. He smiled. Perhaps Hermione was trying to make amends. He took off his jacket and hung it by the door. He was pleased that the flat didn't smell like smoke. Despite repeatedly asking her not to, Hermione smoked inside when he wasn't home. He took his bags out of his coat pocket and into the spare room where he enlarged them and put away his brooms. Then he walked down the hall toward the bathroom noting that the door was cracked. He tapped on it lightly.

"I am home," he said.

"Good," Hermione responded. "Come and join me in the bath."

Viktor smiled.

xXx

A couple of days later, Hermione was changing out of her work robes, when Viktor came into their bedroom. "We should be leaving soon."

"I'm just about ready," Hermione said.

"Are you not going to put up your hair?"

She glared at him. "Why do you care how I wear my hair? I don't tell you how to wear yours."

He frowned at her. "When you leave it down and messy like that it gets everywhere. I lean over to kiss you and end up with a mouth full of hair. It's nicer when it is up. Besides, you have a lovely neck."

She clenched her jaw. "Well, you'll just have to deal with the mess tonight. They're my friends. Maybe I just want to look like myself."

"Is that what you are trying to do? Pretend that nothing has changed?"

She dropped her eyes.

He shook his head at her. "Real friends would understand that things are different now."

She looked up sharply. "I know that. It's not about that."

"Hermione."

"Don't start. We need to go." She drew her wand.

He frowned. "If you want your friends to really think you are fine, you should let up on the drinking. I am not the only one who notices."

She glared at him. "But you are the only one who gripes about it."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Fine. Do what you like."

"I intend to. Can we just go?"

He took her arm and felt the squeeze of Apparition.

xXx

When they arrived in Godric's Hollow, Hermione was once again disappointed that Ginny wasn't there.

"Lavender's baby shower is tonight," Harry explained. "She was going to skip it, but Molly, Fleur, and Angelina are all going, and Molly gave her such a hard time about backing out that she caved."

Hermione tried not to be hurt that she wasn't even invited. Not that she really wanted to go, but she was a Gryffindor, and she'd been at Seamus and Lavender's wedding. She couldn't help wondering if the only reason she'd been invited to the wedding was so that Lavender and Seamus could say they'd had Viktor Krum in attendance. "It's fine. Of course, she had to go."

Harry took them on a tour of the remodeled house. The whole lower level was finished with hardwood floors and wainscoting throughout, but it wasn't entirely furnished. Off the main entry hall was a small library and a large dining room on the left and a very large living room on the right that flowed into the kitchen at the back. The living room was furnished with a thick Persian rug on the floor and lots of comfortable seating. There was a family clock over the mantle like the one the Weasleys had at the Burrow, she was touched to see there was a hand for her on it. She blinked back unexpected tears. Clearing her throat and pulling herself together, she followed Harry and Viktor upstairs.

The top floor was only roughed in, but Harry pointed out where the bedrooms and bathrooms would be. He was very excited about the project. Hermione smiled at his enthusiasm. While they were talking, Dobby had been preparing dinner which smelled delicious and appeared on the table when they returned to the dining room, with its large table that seated eight. She was surprised Harry hadn't chosen to just eat at the smaller table in the kitchen, but she supposed she and Viktor were guests more than family.

"So that's all we've done, but it's not like we're in a hurry to move in, so we're taking our time on the upstairs and the rest of the furniture."

"It looks terrific," Hermione said.

"Yes," Viktor agreed. "One day I would like to design a home. I think that would be very satisfying."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. He'd never mentioned anything like that before. "Oh?"

"Yes," Viktor said. "A large estate somewhere in the Cotswolds would be nice, yes?"

"I guess. I've never really thought about it. I'm more of a city person, I suppose."

"London is nice too," Viktor said. "But I would not want to raise my children there."

"Why not?" Hermione said. "I was raised there. It's a wonderful place to grow up. There's so much to do."

He made a noncommittal sound. "Children need fresh air and room to run around."

"There's loads of room on Hampstead Heath," Hermione countered.

"That is a park. Magical children need wild spaces," Viktor said.

Hermione frowned. "I was a magical child."

"Raised by Muggles," Viktor said.

"I like London," Harry said, trying to diffuse the sudden tension. "I suspect we'll be back and forth even when we have kids."

"Really?" Viktor said.

"Sure. Like Hermione said, lots to do. Have a seat."

xXx

Dinner was delicious. Dobby had outdone himself with thick steaks, hasselback potatoes, and roasted broccoli. When Hermione reached for the wine to pour a fourth glass, Viktor squeezed her thigh under the table. She set down the wine glass and picked up her water goblet instead. He smiled at her and she smiled tightly back at him.

Harry was talking about the challenges they'd faced rebuilding his parent's house when Hermione got up to use the loo. As she walked through the parlor on the way back to the dining room, the fireplace flashed with the green flames of the Floo Network, and Ron stepped out.

xXx

Ron had been in France for the last two days on a remarkably successful sales trip. He was starting to franchise the casting part of the process since there was no way he was going to be able to cast every Quidditch match in every country. Franchising had been Fred's idea or maybe it was George's. They were both very enthusiastic when they'd pitched it to him, and now he'd sold his first franchise for more galleons than he'd ever seen at one time. He couldn't wait to tell Harry and Ginny about it. Things had been a bit strained between Harry and him since the argument about Michelle, but now she was gone, and it seemed like a good time to mend fences with his best mate. Maybe they hadn't had dinner yet, and he could take them out. He knew they were spending the weekend at Godric's Hollow and that Ginny was at Lavender's baby shower, so he figured he'd set things right with Harry, and then when Ginny got back, they could go out for dinner and drinks to celebrate his triumph.

xXx

He stepped out of the fireplace and his whole plan fell apart because there was Hermione coming out of the loo off the living room. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of him. They stood staring at each other, and he had a moment of perfect clarity. Harry wasn't the only one he needed to put things right with.

"I'm sorry," Ron said without preamble. Hermione looked taken aback and somewhat confused. He realized she might think he was just talking about showing up uninvited. "For everything," he amended. "I'm not unrepentant. I'm ashamed."

Hermione's mouth opened and her lips were moving but no words came out. She backed away from him until she hit the wall. She just stood there staring at him. He started to say something else when he heard Harry say, "I'll go check."

"I didn't realize you had company," Ron said, glancing at Harry. Then his gaze returned to Hermione. He spoke directly to her never breaking eye contact. "I'm sorry. It was entirely my fault. I'm so sorry," he said again before stepping back into the fireplace and disappearing in a swirl of green flame.

xXx

Harry looked at Hermione. She'd gone quite pale. "Hey." She shook her head and went back into the dining room. Harry followed

"Who was it?" Viktor asked.

"Just a friend," Harry said. "I'll talk to him later. I'll get dessert."

"I need a fag first," Hermione said, taking Viktor's almost full wine glass from the table, and walking through the kitchen and out the back door.

Viktor frowned at her.

xXx

Harry stepped outside. Hermione had set the wine on the patio table and was trying to light a cigarette but couldn't seem to do the spell because her hands were shaking. He snapped his fingers and lit it for her. "What happened?"

"Nothing." She took a deep drag on the cigarette and wouldn't look at him as she reached for the wine.

"Why was Ron apologizing?"

"For showing up uninvited, I imagine."

"He does that all the time. You and I both know that's not it. Tell me what happened with you two. Why did you leave?"

Hermione closed her eyes and finished the wine. "I just did."

Harry was frustrated at her continued unwillingness to answer his question. "That doesn't make any sense." 

"Why don't you ask Ron if you're so curious."She took another drag on her cigarette. 

"I have asked him."

Hermione blew out a long stream of smoke. "And what does he say?"

"We've had this conversation before. He says you just left."

She gave him a sad smile. "Well, there you go then."

"But why did you leave?"

"Why I left doesn't matter. It's that I can never go back that's important."

"Why would you say that?" Harry was confused by the whole conversation.

"Because it's true." She took a last drag on her cigarette and stubbed it out against the patio tile. Calmer now, she snapped her fingers and the butt disappeared.

"Does that mean you would if you could? Are you not happy with Viktor?"

Hermione sighed. "Viktor is a good man. He looks out for me. He doesn't judge me."

"For what?" Harry asked, still feeling like he was missing something.

"For anything. We should go back in." She walked into the house without waiting for him.

Harry wished he could grab Ron and Hermione both and bang their heads together. Regardless of why they broke up in the first place, it was clear to him, that they both wanted to be together again, but for some reason, neither one of them seemed willing to make the first move. Frustrated, he went back inside.


	13. Truce

Viktor and Hermione left shortly after dessert, which Hermione couldn't remember eating. She didn't even know what Harry had served. Her head was spinning with Ron's apology. He had said he wasn't unrepentant. She'd called him that in Spain. Had he been thinking about it since then? Surely not. Why hadn't he said something before?

When they popped back into Viktor's flat, Hermione went straight for the bedroom, intending to get out of her clothes and into the shower. She needed to think and Viktor's presence was making that impossible. Ron had apologized. He'd said he was ashamed. Was shame what had prevented him saying something before? Was that it? She wanted to scream.

"Stop," Viktor said, catching her arm. "Talk to me. What happened tonight? Who came through the Floo? Was it Ron?"

She turned toward him intending to say something flip, to blow him off, to get away, but Viktor's expression was so earnest, she couldn't manage it. "Yes."

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing." She'd hardly begun to process Ron's words. She certainly wasn't ready to talk to anyone else about them, especially Viktor.

Viktor arched an eyebrow at her. "Really? Because he usually has quite a lot to say when he sees you."

"Not this time. He told Harry he didn't realize he had company. He said he was sorry and left." That was true in the most basic sense.

"You needed another glass of wine and a fag for that?"

Hermione drew in a breath and stood up straight, weighing whether or not to tell him the truth, but then she bottled out. "Of course not."

He frowned at her.

"Have you met me? I just wanted more wine and a fag." She rolled her eyes.

His frown deepened. "You drink too much."

"You gripe too much." She couldn't believe he was getting into all that. Like her drinking mattered in light of everything else, but of course, Viktor didn't know about everything else.

"You need help. There are healers who can help you."

"I don't need help."

"Do not be ridiculous." Viktor took her arm. "Come with me."

She pulled her arm back but he held on. "I'm not going anywhere and you'd be wise to take your hand off me." They glared at each other for a long moment.

He let her go. "You cannot keep doing this."

"Stop it!" She grabbed her cigarettes and went out on to the balcony. Leaning against the railing, she lit a cigarette and stared out into the night. Not for the first time, she contemplated how completely her personal life had derailed. She wished she loved Viktor. She wanted to love him, wanted him to love her. But neither of them had ever professed love for the other. She didn't even know why they were still together. Maybe it was just laziness or guilt, or their mutual enjoyment of a good, hard shag. Likely, it was some combination of all of that. She wasn't sure, but the more she settled into the situation, the more it unnerved her. She wondered if it bothered Viktor too. She thought it must. At the very least, her drinking clearly bothered him. She pulled her hair back over her shoulders and sighed. If she was honest, she probably should cut back on the drinking. She certainly didn't need to go to a healer for that though. Viktor was making a mountain out of molehill.

She stared down at the alley. Ron had apologized, not that he'd been very specific, but he'd said the words. After all this time, she couldn't imagine what had possessed him. More importantly she wondered what it meant. Maybe it didn't mean anything except that he wanted to clear the air. She couldn't help wondering what Ron might've said if Harry hadn't walked in. She snorted softly. She wished she had a galleon for every time Harry had walked in and ruined a moment between her and Ron. She'd be a rich woman. She considered her Gringott's account. She supposed, given the success of some of the spells she'd created, that she was doing quite well financially. Not that it mattered. Her needs were basic and her desires simple. Beyond her daily comfort, piles of gold weren't going to buy her what she really wanted.

The door to the balcony opened and Viktor came out with two cups of tea. He handed her one. "Truce?"

She sighed and took the offered cup. "Truce."

xXx

Ron stood at his bedroom window watching Hermione smoke on Viktor's balcony. The night hid her expression, but her stance seemed contemplative, or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part. He wondered what she thought of his apology, if it had been enough to start a dialog, a real dialog, between them. He watched as Viktor came out on to the balcony and handed her a cup. He longed for an extendable ear that could tell him what they were saying. He was disappointed a moment later when they hugged each other. He hated the idea of her in Viktor's arms. That it had been almost three years didn't change that it was wrong, just as it was wrong every time he was with another woman. He wondered if she felt that way too. He didn't understand how she couldn't. As he continued watching, Viktor and Hermione kissed. Viktor took her hand and led her back inside, and Ron felt sick. Maybe the apology hadn't been enough or maybe it was just too late or too vague. He wished he knew exactly what he was apologizing for, but that last night remained tantalizingly at the very edge of his memory, leaving him only with the sense that it was bad, very bad, but nothing specific beyond the fact that he'd been drunk. But given how drunk he'd seen her on several occasions since, she could hardly be holding that against him. He sighed and left the window.

xXx

Hermione lay on her back staring at the ceiling. Viktor was deeply asleep next to her, his breathing even and heavy. She looked at him, taking in his chiseled physique and silky black hair. Their relationship wasn't really working anymore and it made her nervous. She sighed and got out of bed. In the kitchen, she poured herself a large whiskey and grabbed her cigarettes from the counter before heading out onto the balcony. Leaning against the railing, she sipped her drink and thought about her situation. In some ways, her life was better than ever. Her Apparition project at work was going swimmingly, and soon she'd be allowed to release it to the public, which would not only revolutionize the way people learned to Apparate, but would also bring her recognition and no small amount of money. She should be thrilled, but instead, she felt gutted.

Strangely, the bond between her and Ron hadn't been tugging at her so hard the last few weeks. Perhaps opening her end had allowed the magic between them to reach a kind of equilibrium. She'd done quite a lot of research on the history of bonds and knew it was possible to maintain one without remaining in a relationship. Possible, but not easy, and yet she and Ron seemed to be managing it. How, she wasn't exactly sure, but she was happy for it nonetheless. She glanced back at the flat. And then there was Viktor and that wasn't working at all anymore, except in the bedroom, but that was starting to make her feel like the sort of woman the tabloids accused her of being. She didn't want to use him just to feel safe. Of course, that had been a big part of what brought them together in the beginning. She'd just been so desperately alone that she'd clung to Viktor to keep from drowning. He'd thrown her a lifeline and she'd happily grabbed it, but then they'd settled into a comfortable companionship. They worked as a couple on a lot of different levels, just not the critical ones. A relationship without love was doomed. She'd known that from the start, but somehow, she thought if she just redoubled her efforts, tried harder to change, that somehow, magically, it would sort itself out. Hard work had saved her before, but her efforts were failing her, and she was failing Viktor. She looked down at the empty glass in her right hand and the lit cigarette in her left. That wasn't who she wanted to be.

xXx

Three days later, Viktor left for Bulgaria to train with the national team. He was both anxious and relieved to be leaving. Hermione was exhausting and things between them had been tense while he had been home. At least in Bulgaria, he could focus on Quidditch. In his downtime, he could visit with Todor and Pietra. Even though he wasn't one to discuss his relationships, he thought they might have some insight into dealing with Hermione's drinking. Pietra could give him another woman's perspective. Maybe that was all he needed, a different perspective.

xXx

Normally, when Viktor wasn't home, Hermione spent most nights sleeping in her rooms at the Ministry, but she hadn't been doing that as much lately. Why Viktor's flat suddenly felt like home, when she and Viktor had never felt more apart, confused her. She'd never warmed to the flat. It was just a place to sleep, but now, particularly on the balcony, she felt more comfortable than she did anywhere else.

She sat sipping coffee and watching the gradual lightening of the sky and contemplated what it would be like if she left Viktor. The idea left a nervous knot in her stomach. She hadn't done well on her own last time. In fact, she'd done horribly. The thought that she might end up back in that dark hole filled her with anxiety, but staying didn't seem like such a great idea either. That was assuming she could stay. She knew she was getting on Viktor's nerves. They argued a lot more than they ever had. Most of that was down to her. She shook her head. On the other hand, since the beginning of their relationship, she'd mostly just gone along with whatever he wanted. Lately, she'd been less inclined to do that, and clearly, it irritated him.

Then, of course, there was his whinging about her drinking. She blew out a slow breath. He wasn't entirely wrong on that front, but his incessant griping about it, didn't help. Perversely, the more he complained, the more she wanted to drink. She felt like he was always telling her what to do and his paternalistic tone grated on her. He was only a few years older than her and yet he acted like he was twenty years her senior. She got enough of that at work without having to listen to it at home as well. She took another sip of coffee and watched the daybreak.

xXx

Viktor had the morning off and was enjoying breakfast with Pietra at her and Todor's home. He'd spent the night, grateful for the break from the hotel and from the city. Todor had already left. He was working on a mural in Prague and had an early Portkey. Pietra poured Viktor some more coffee and sat down at the table across from him. He pushed at the yoghurt on is plate with the back of a spoon and wondered what Hermione was doing. Perhaps she was still sleeping or perhaps she hadn't slept at all. She hadn't written him since he'd been gone, but then, he hadn't written her either.

"Viktor?"

He looked up at Pietra.

"What's wrong?"

He cleared his throat. "Nothing."

"You've barely touched your breakfast and you've been very quiet ever since you got here."

Viktor swirled the spoon through the yoghurt. "I have had a lot on my mind."

"Such as?"

He sighed and set down the spoon. "Things are not going well with Hermione."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Viktor took a sip of his coffee and leaned back in his chair. "She seems so…distant and she is drinking a lot more than she used to. I know complaining about it does not help, but…" He sighed.

"It's hard to watch and not say anything." Pietra's dark blue eyes held volumes of sympathy.

"Yes."

"I know."

"I know you do. What do I do about it?"

"That depends."

"On what?" 

"What you want, and what you can live with, and how much of yourself you're willing to sacrifice for her. I have loved Todor for a long time, and we've been through a lot together, but I left him, because I couldn't live with him. He struggled to get clean, so he could be with me. Is that the kind of relationship you have with Hermione?"

Viktor closed his eyes and sighed. "No."

Pietra reached across the table and squeezed his forearm. "What do you want, Viktor?"

He looked at her. She had pulled her light brown hair back in a loose ponytail, so he could see all the concern wrinkled in her brow. "I want her back the way she was, when we were first together."

Pietra sat back, smiling. "Wasn't she fifteen then?"

He snorted. "I am not talking about that time. I am talking about the beginning of this time."

"What's changed?"

Viktor shook his head. "She has. She just does not seem interested in me or what I am doing."

"Maybe you just need to reconnect, take some time away, but that's not going to change the drinking."

"No, but I do not think I am ready to give up on us entirely."

"Because you love her or because you just can't face dating again?"

Viktor frowned at her.

"You don't have to tell me. As long as you know the answer, that's all that matters."

"She is worth loving."

Pietra smiled at him. "I know that. She saved Todor's life in France last year. I would love her for that alone, but beyond that, I really enjoy her company. She's incredibly smart, thoughtful, easy to be around. And obviously good in a crisis."

Viktor nodded. "All of that is true, except lately, she is not so easy to be around. It is like she is irritated with me, but for what, I do not know."

"Have you asked her?"

"No."

"Perhaps you should."

He let out a non-committal grunt and sipped his coffee.


	14. Friends

Hermione woke Sunday morning to find a kitchen devoid of coffee. Although, hangover potion cleared her head, it didn't wake her. She'd had so little sleep the last two weeks that she couldn't function without caffeine or Wide-Eye Potion, and it seemed a little early for that. Disgruntled, she decided to make do with tea, only to find they were out of that as well. She opened several cabinets to find little or nothing. She hadn't been to the market since Viktor left. Since he was due to return that evening, she needed to go sooner rather than later. She groaned and went to take a shower.

xXx

Diagon Alley was quiet as she walked up the cobblestone street toward Featherbottom Café, a new shop and one of the few open this early on a Sunday. Luna was standing outside the door.

"Hello, Luna."

"Oh, hullo." Luna smiled at her. "They aren't open yet."

Hermione let out a soft groan.

"What brings you out so early?"

"We're out of coffee. I can't face going to the market without it."

"I understand."

The door opened and an older witch smiled at them. "What can I get for you two then?"

"A large black coffee," Hermione said.

"I'd like tea and a scone," Luna said.

"I got plain or currant today, luv."

"Currant, please."

"Right away," the witch said. "Sit anywhere you like."

Luna took a seat by the window and Hermione sat across from her. The café reminded her of one she'd been to in Muggle London. It was long and narrow with dark wood paneling and simple wooden tables and chairs. There was a magazine rack and a tall shelf full of games to complete the room.

After a moment of awkward silence, Hermione said, "How's Neville? I haven't seen you two since Oliver's party."

"He's good. We aren't together anymore though."

"Oh?" Hermione was taken aback and embarrassed to have brought it up. "I'm so sorry."

"You needn't be. We're still friends. We're just not lovers anymore." Three more customers came into the shop and went to the counter to order.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "How'd you manage that?"

"Manage what?" Luna asked as the waitress sent their orders sailing over to land on the table in front of them.

"A civil ending." Hermione took a sip of her coffee.

Luna cocked her head. "Are you unhappy with Viktor or are you talking about Ron?"

Hermione shrugged and sipped her coffee. Luna used her wand to send a Galleon over to the witch behind the counter who promptly sent back change. Hermione reached for her purse. "I've got it," Luna said. "You were saying?"

Hermione looked around. Two more customers had come in. The café was beginning to fill up. She shook her head. "I really can't talk here."

Luna nodded and went over to the counter and came back with a couple of paper cups and a small brown bag. She handed one of the cups to Hermione. "My flat is just around the corner."

Somewhat reluctantly, Hermione poured her coffee into the paper cup and followed Luna down the street to a narrow alley between the cobbler and the fish monger and up a set of iron stairs to a tiny bedsit. It was one large room with a kitchenette in one corner and a door leading to the bathroom in the opposite corner. In between were Luna's bed and a small sitting area with a coffee table surrounded by four worn wing chairs. Beneath them came the steady tapping of the cobbler.

"It's not much," Luna said. "But it's all I need." She cast a silencing charm on the floor and the tapping stopped.

Hermione looked around. The flat was tidy but lived in, not immaculate like Viktor liked his place to be. The décor was predictably whimsical with artwork on the walls that leaned toward the cartoonish and abstract. "I love it." 

Luna smiled at her. "Have a seat." She took one of the wing chairs and pulling the scone out of the paper bag. "Would you like some of this?"

"No. I'm not hungry. Thanks."

"So, you were saying…" Luna took a bite of the scone.

"Oh, um…" She needed someone to talk to, someone without any skin in the game, but she and Luna had never exactly been close. On the other hand, she knew Luna was trustworthy even though she often wrote articles for the Quibbler. She sighed. "This is strictly off the record, right?"

"Of course," Luna said. "I'm not interviewing you. You just seem upset. I thought you might want to talk, but if it makes you uncomfortable—"

"No. I mean, yes, it does, but…honestly, Luna, I could use a friend."

"What's wrong?"

Hermione closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing herself not to cry.

Luna didn't seem to be in a hurry and sat quietly nibbling on her scone and sipping her tea.

"I'm not sure I want to be with Viktor anymore," Hermione said, shocked at what a relief it was to say those words out loud.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Have you been fighting?"

"Some. It's more that we just don't seem to be on the same page anymore. He's a good man. I just feel like…I don't know…"

"Like something is missing?" Luna suggested.

"Yes. I miss…I miss laughing. I miss…" She shook her head.

"You can say it," Luna said softly. "It won't leave this room."

Hermione couldn't stop a tear from slipping down her cheek. "Ron used to tell me he loved me, casually, all the time, any time, no special occasion. I miss that so much. And he really did make me laugh, he's such a goof, and I think I might need that." More tears fell. "I miss all that shared history, you know? The ability to say so much with just a look because we'd been together for so long. But mostly, I just…" She shook her head again trying to pull herself together.

After a moment, Luna prompted her. "What?"

"I really miss who I was when I was with him. Does that make sense?"

Luna nodded.

"Sometimes, I look in the mirror, and I don't know who the woman looking back at me is. I don't recognize myself in her at all." She sobbed.

"That sounds awful."

Hermione wiped her face with her sleeve. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so upset. I'm just so tired."

"It's all right. Are you not sleeping?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not much. Bloody nightmares."

Luna nodded. "Mine come in waves. I'll go weeks without one, and then out of the blue, I'll have one every night."

Hermione nodded. "Exactly."

"Does Viktor not understand?"

Hermione sighed. "He does when he's home, but he's almost never home. Honestly, I'm just waiting for the day he comes in and chucks me."

"I thought you wanted to break up."

"I do…and I don't. I'm not particularly happy, but the idea of being on my own isn't very appealing either. I don't know what to do." The uncertainty was killing her. Normally, she analyzed a problem and made a decision, but her personal life had too many variables and that seemed to shift from day to day.

"Have you said anything to Ron?"

Hermione looked up sharply. "What? No!"

Luna looked at her, wide-eyed.

"You don't understand."

"That's true." Luna shrugged. "I'm not sure anyone does. There's been a lot of speculation about you two."

"Yes, I know." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I read the paper."

"I don't mean that. I mean among your friends. It was quite a shock when you left."

"Right." A familiar pit began to form in Hermione's stomach. "I'm sure it was."

"Most people seem divided into one of two camps," Luna continued in her same airy tone, seemingly oblivious to Hermione's discomfort. "Some folks seem to think Ron was never smart enough for you in the first place, and once the war was over and he was addled, you traded up."

"That's rubbish." Hermione was horrified that anyone would think that.

"That's what Lavender said when, I think it was Justin who suggested it, others agreed though."

"Lavender?"

"Yes. Lavender said Ron must have done something horrible to make you leave."

Hermione felt tears threaten. _Lavender, of all people, got it right._

Luna cocked her head. "I always suspected Lavender might be sharper than most people give her credit for. Padma and Parvati, Neville, Dean, and Seamus agreed with her. And me, of course."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried to calm down. The desire to come clean to Luna, to just tell the whole horrible truth, was almost irresistible.

"He's not the same as he was."

Hermione opened her eyes. "What?"

"Ron. He's different now."

"I know."

"So why not talk to him?"

Hermione shook her head. "I've seen him Luna, several times, you know we go to all those events. He's not interested. He's never given the slightest indication that he'd like to get back together." She shrugged. "He's with a different woman every time I see him. He's happily playing the field."

Luna made a noncommittal noise.

"I can't focus on that anyway. I need to sort out this situation with Viktor, see if there's some way to salvage it, and if there isn't, I need to figure out how to extricate myself without it…" She stopped herself from saying 'destroying me.'

"Without it what?" Luna asked when Hermione didn't finish the sentence.

"Getting out of hand."

Luna's eyebrows went up. "You think he'll be angry?"

"Probably. I mean, he won't be happy." Hermione sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't know what we're doing. But I'm starting to think we're just friends playing house and not doing a very good job of it." Luna gave her a look of such sympathy that tears threatened again. "Maybe I'm just being a baby about this. It's probably just a rough patch. Couples go through those. Viktor is a good man. I should appreciate him more."

"He can be a good man and still not be the right man for you. Neville is a wonderful man, but we weren't right for each other past a certain point. Some relationships just have an expiration date, don't you think?"

Hermione smiled at her and stood. "Maybe. Look, I should go. Thanks for listening. You're a good friend."

Luna smiled. "Thank you. Come by any time."

"Thanks."

Luna hugged her and for a moment Hermione didn't want to leave. She just wanted to hide forever in Luna's cozy little apartment with its diaphanous curtains and strange artwork on the walls. She stepped back. "I'll see you around."


	15. Forced Sabbatical

After going to the market and restocking the larder in Viktor's flat, Hermione went to work. A scroll was on her desk with "Open me" written above the seal. Sighing she read the invitation to Basra's office. She groaned before heading down the hall. When she knocked on the door, it opened magically, but instead of entering a mysterious dark space, as she always had before, the room was well lit with magical lamps and she could see towering shelves of books and jars and instruments. Basra was sitting at a table in one corner with Jones, Seacole, Ellis, and Thomas Greene.

"Ah, you're here," Seacole said. "Have a seat."

Hermione took the only empty chair and sat across from her coworkers. A tight ball of nerves twisted in her stomach.

"Your String-Apparition project is going quite well," Ellis said. "You're just about to enter the last phase of testing, yes?"

"Yes. I was going to speak to Professor McGonagall tomorrow to set up a meeting."

"We'd like you to hold off on that a bit," Seacole said.

Alarm bells began to ring in Hermione's head. She racked her brain trying to think why they were stopping her. All the tests had gone swimmingly. There hadn't been a single problem. "I don't understand. Everything is going so well."

"Yes," Ellis said. "We're very pleased. It's a smashing project."

"Then, why—?"

"When was the last time you slept at home?" Thomas asked quietly.

Hermione looked at him. "What does that—?"

"It's been weeks, Hermione," Thomas continued in the same quiet tone. "You're here when I get here in the morning, no matter how early I come in. And no matter what time I leave at night, you're still here."

Hermione cleared her throat. The others were all staring at her. "I do go home to sleep some nights. I just don't stay there long. I've been very focused on getting this right."

"Yes, you have," Ellis said.

"And you've handled it masterfully," Seacole added. "Very impressive for one so young."

"You're practically still a child. And yet, so clever!" Basra added enthusiastically.

Jones rolled her eyes. Basra was clearly trying to be supportive in front of the others after his gaff at the beginning of the year. "Before you begin the final phase of testing, we want you to take a few weeks off."

"Maybe even a month or two," Basra said.

"But take some time," Seacole said.

"Then you can come back fresh," Ellis said. "It will be good for you and good for the project."

"But I'm so close," Hermione said.

"You've still got weeks of testing," Thomas said. "You need a break before you get into all that. The last phase is the hardest with the most test subjects."

"He's right," Ellis said. "Please don't make us insist."

Hermione looked at each of them in turn. They all looked kind but determined, except Basra, who seemed to be trying to look like the others, but instead came off looking constipated instead. She sighed. "Well…all right then. I guess I'll go home."

xXx

After a detour for wine, Hermione popped into Viktor's flat just as an owl landed on the balcony. She gave the bird a treat and took the letter from its leg. Viktor had written. He used to write to her almost every day when he was away, but lately, his letters were few and far between. She couldn't really complain. She wasn't writing to him any more often. She poured herself a glass of wine and took it out on to the balcony to read the letter which was surprisingly thick. She wondered if he had decided that it was easier to chuck her in a letter. She was surprised then to find that he was giving her his schedule for the upcoming press junket for the Bulgarian National Team. Miracle of miracles, he asked her to join him as the team traveled through Europe for the next three weeks. She set down the letter, sipped her wine and thought about the invitation. Maybe it was a sign that she should have another go at working things out with him.

She wouldn't know anyone on the team or any of the families like she would if he were traveling with Puddlemere United, but at least they'd be together. She tapped her finger on the letter and looked down at her glass of wine. She could go to Europe, try and fix things with Viktor, or sit here alone and pickle herself, while she waited for him to come home and break up with her. She went back inside to pen a letter at his desk. She wasn't designed to wait for the inevitable. If she and Viktor ended up splitting, it wasn't going to be because she didn't try to make it work. She'd made that mistake with Ron. Depression had made her passive and weak, but she was stronger now. She wouldn't lose what she had without a fight. This time, if she walked away, she'd do it with her head held high. No more slinking away in the middle of the night. She looked at the blank piece of parchment in front of her and tossed it aside. She'd just show up. He sent the schedule, so perhaps he wanted her to show up. Maybe he wanted her to walk in on something she couldn't let stand, so she'd leave, and he wouldn't have to break up with her. No. That wasn't the way Viktor handled things. That was more Ron's style. If Viktor invited her, it was because he wanted her there. Maybe he was hoping to fix things too. She got up from the desk. She needed to pack and make a Portkey.

xXx

That night, Hermione arrived in the alley behind the Khotel Magiya in Sophia. She'd packed all her best clothing, knowing that if Viktor wanted her to stay, the press junket would have them attending many black-tie events. They were sure to be photographed constantly, so she needed to look her best.

Unsure of the hotel situation, and without a place to change, she'd arrived fully dressed for the event happening in the hotel ballroom. Pausing for a moment to catch her breath and let her stomach settle, she checked the small formal beaded bag she'd charmed to hold all her luggage. Everything was in order. Smoothing the front of her gown, she stepped onto the sidewalk and headed for the hotel entrance.

Everyone else in the lobby was as elegantly dressed as she was. Finding the event was easy, since most of the people were headed in one direction. She fell in with the crowd was soon in an opulent ballroom. The ceiling had been charmed to show the night sky in the same way the Great Hall ceiling had been done at Hogwarts. Hundreds of candles floated above her head. She stepped out of the way of other attendees coming in and looked around until she spotted Viktor. He was surrounded by a throng of mostly women and was clearly holding court. Hermione let out a soft snort. He clearly wasn't expecting her. She thought for a moment how she wanted to handle the situation.

She could go back to the front desk and ask for a key to his room and just wait for him there, but if he hadn't listed her, that could be embarrassing. She was fairly certain she could gain access to his room without a key, but that was risky, depending on how competent the hotel security was. Or she could just do what she was invited to do. After all, the whole point of a press junket was to draw attention, and she and Viktor always drew a lot of attention. She blew out a slow breath and softly clapped her hands. "Part," she whispered. The sea of people between her and Viktor slid to either side of a narrow aisle that appeared between them. Viktor looked up when the person he was talking to slid over two feet. Hermione walked up the aisle. Viktor raised his eyebrows at her approach.

"Hello, Viktor," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled. "Hermione." The aisle disappeared behind her as she walked and people stirred and commented all around them. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited."

He cocked his head at her. "But you did not respond." 

"I thought I'd surprise you."

"And you did. That was quite an entrance." The change in the conversation around them clearly indicated that the room had taken notice.

"Isn't that the point of these things?" She winked at him.

"Indeed."

"So, it's all right if I stay?"

"Of course." He took her hand. "I will just have to let the concierge know I will need more towels."

Hermione smiled.

"Come dance with me." He led her out onto the dance floor, and they slid smoothly into a foxtrot. As they went into a turn, Viktor said, "I thought you were working on a very demanding project."

"Phase three is done. I thought I'd take some time off before I start the final phase."

He arched an eyebrow at her and seemed to study her for a moment as they danced. "Forced sabbatical?"

She could feel herself blush, so there was no point trying to deny it. "Yes."

His jaw tightened. "Ah." He looked away as he walked her back in time to the music.

"But," she said as they did a quick step to the side. "I have been working too hard. I need a break. I know I haven't been…I didn't like the way things went before you left."

He turned them again, and looked her in the eye.

"You had some valid points," she said, holding eye contact.

His expression softened. "You do work too hard."

"But not for the next month or so. We'll do the press junket and then go somewhere sunny and warm."

Viktor nodded. "Yes. That sounds good."

xXx

Dancing went on for the next hour and then there was a banquet. Hermione excused herself to go to the loo before dinner. She had finished using the toilet and was about to exit the stall when she heard two women come in talking. They were speaking Bulgarian in snide tones.

"I see Viktor's Mudblood has come along this time."

"I saw that. I was hoping we'd seen the last of her. I really want to introduce him to my sister."

"Oh, please," the first woman said. "He's not going to go for some vanilla Pureblood, not when dating her draws so much attention.

"Of course, it does," the second woman said. "As I understand it, the coach asked Viktor to invite her in hopes of drawing more attention to the team. Apparently, the Vultures have quite the lineup for next year, and he feels like it's pulling too much attention from the National Team's press coverage."

The first woman snorted. "Mitkov is such an opportunist."

Hermione felt her blood run cold. She couldn't help but wonder if that was the real reason for Viktor's unexpected invitation. Still, it wasn't as if she didn't understand that was part of her appeal. Dating a member of the Golden Trio was a double-edged sword. What he found so frustrating about her past also held a lot of allure. She shrugged it off and cast a couple of non-verbal glamour charms and a blue-eyed blonde came out of the stall, washed her hands, and left.

xXx

Viktor smiled when she returned to the table, looking like herself, and sat next to him. She smiled back, determined not to let gossip ruin her evening. She was here to make things better between them, not worse.

The banquet went off without a hitch. The people sitting near her were surprised, and seemingly delighted, that she spoke fluent Bulgarian. Viktor was clearly having a good time and that continued after dinner with more dancing. They returned to his hotel room after midnight. When he closed the door behind them, he took her in his arms. "Thank you for coming." He kissed her neck.

"Thanks for inviting me." She leaned her head over to give him better access.

He smiled and continued kissing her. "I love this dress." He ran his hand up her bare back.

"You should, you bought it."

"It looks good on you, but it looks better on the floor."

She chuckled and let him slide it off her shoulders. Perhaps they could fix things after all.


	16. Germany

Ron's life had turned into an endless slog of work with very little else. Michele was gone. Margaret was working morning shifts for the month and wasn't interested in late night trysts. And Hermione wasn't home. He checked his bedroom window every time he came home, but she was never on Viktor's balcony. In fact, he hadn't even seen a light on in their flat for almost a week. He leaned against his bedroom wall and sighed. He now had six employees and he could easily use a dozen more, but the idea of interviewing and training just left him feeling exhausted. What he needed was a break, a change of scenery, a bit of fun. He shook his head and got undressed. A shower and some dinner would make him feel better.

xxx

While he ate, he looked through the day's post. Most of it was work related, but then he saw a light pink envelope with two seals. He smiled as he popped it open. He'd gotten an envelope like this before. Sure enough, his Swedish friends were inviting him to meet up with them at the German Ministry of Magic's trade show over the weekend. He'd planned on going anyway, so he might as well combine business with pleasure. He happily pulled out a quill and composed his acceptance.

xxx

Three days later, Hermione took another glass of beer from a tray floating by. At least she thought it was beer, maybe it was ale, no, one of Viktor's teammates had made a point of the German word being bier, so beer it was. Then she reconsidered, maybe it was all beer and some of it was ale and some of it was lager. The same teammate had gone on for a quite a while about brewing, but she hadn't really been paying attention.

The party was in Berlin and hosted by the German National Quidditch team, but for some reason, that she couldn't quite fathom, the party was American West themed. People were wearing cowboy hats and boots and western style shirts. She'd agreed to a plaid western shirt knotted at her waist over a short denim skirt and some cowboy boots. She'd refused the hat but still felt like an idiot. The beer was helping. Viktor had grumbled about the costume, but seemed to be embracing line dancing. He and his teammates were making a good effort at following along with a German witch, who was demonstrating the steps. Hermione had joined in the line dancing for a while, but the twangy music, and the fact that this was their fifth party in as many nights, was giving her a headache.

She was leaning against the bar wondering why someone had bothered to charm the floor to look like it was covered in peanut shells when a familiar sensation crawled up her spine. Ron was in the building. She couldn't imagine what he was doing there. She looked around, wishing she hadn't had so much to drink. Alcohol made it harder to control the bond and harder to focus her attention and locate him. The beer hall was massive though, and at the moment, seemed to be accommodating half the European magical population. Even with his height, it would be hard to spot him in the throng of people, especially since so many of them were wearing wide-brimmed hats. She grimaced. She didn't like not knowing where he was. She looked around and decided to go up on the balcony overlooking the dance floor. Higher ground would make it easier to spot him. She took another beer off a floating tray and headed upstairs.

Hermione still hadn't spotted Ron, when Viktor joined her a few minutes later.

"I was wondering where you were." He slumped next to her against the railing. "I am possibly having too much to drink."

She smiled at him. He had definitely had too much to drink. He was starting to lose his English grammatical structure. That happened whenever he was drunk or upset or tired.

He took off his hat, revealing hair that was curly and damp at the edges. He flicked his wand at the hat and it disappeared. "Enough with that."

"Good choice."

"Why are you up here? You usually like the dancing."

She shrugged. "I just needed a breather. Besides, this isn't really my kind of music."

"Is okay, but not my favorite," Viktor agreed. He looked at the crowd below. "Is that not your ex?"

Hermione followed his gaze and there was Ron with two tall, stunningly beautiful blondes, one on each arm. The three of them were chatting with a couple she recognized as being part of the Swedish National Quidditch Team.

Viktor snorted. "He is in for good weekend."

"What?" 

"Those two women, Olga and Svetlana, are lots of fun."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. "I take it you know this from experience?"

He gave her a cheeky grin. "They made the weekend after my first World Cup very memorable."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What? Do not be so prude. They are fun. They like to fuck famous men. Nothing wrong with that."

"Really?" Hermione frowned. "It doesn't bother you to be used like that?"

"No. I was not used. That makes it sound like someone was getting hurt. Was not like that. It was fun, casual, no one misunderstood what was going on. Everyone was safe and tastes and desires were respected. All good."

"Miss it, do you?"

"What?" He leaned back to look at her. "No. Sex like that is fun, but not real. There is no future in it, no stability, no real caring. It is…um…more like game, like sport. Fun but not too serious."

She shook her head. "If you say so."

He sighed. "Olga and Svetlana are nice people, nice couple. They are very committed to each other and occasionally like to have fun with guy."

"As long as he's famous."

Viktor shrugged. "Call it kink."

Hermione looked down at Ron. She could see the moment it hit him that she was in building. He turned around and looked right at her, and his face flushed back to his ears. "Are you ready to call it a night?" she asked Viktor, without looking at him. "I'm over this."

xXx

In the moments, between Apparating and arriving back at the hotel, Viktor had gone from drunk to very drunk, which was sometimes a side effect of Apparating while intoxicated. He gave Hermione a sloppy kiss.

"I have to get out of this ridiculous outfit," she grumbled.

"Yeehaw!"

She snorted. "Are you really up for a shag there, cowboy? You can barely stand up."

"I am always up for shagging," he said, before falling back onto the bed.

Hermione waited a moment, but he didn't sit back up. "That's what I thought." She pulled off his boots. He was softly snoring by the time she was done. She drew her wand and cast Mobilicorpus. While he was in the air, she pulled the sheets back, cast another spell to remove his clothes, and then put him in bed and covered him up. He slept through the whole thing. She shook her head at him then went out into the sitting area of the suite, closing the bedroom door behind her. She picked up the magical room service menu and ordered a chamomile tea. A moment later, a steaming cup appeared on the coffee table. She said a silent thank you to the house elf that prepared it and took it out on to the balcony.

The city lights were beautiful and the view of the Fernsehturm Berlin was stunning, but she missed London. She was tired of the press tour, tired of the parties, tired of being Viktor's Mudblood girlfriend from the Golden Trio. She longed to be back in the company of people who knew her beyond her history. She thought of Ron and those two blondes and shook her head. She wished she'd never fallen in love with him, wished they'd just stayed friends. If they had, she'd still have a home to go to, even though her parents were gone. She'd always been welcomed at the Burrow like family, and she felt that loss almost as acutely as she felt losing Ron.

She thought again about the bond as she sipped her tea. She'd barely noticed it lately, which is why he'd managed to get all the way into the building without her recognizing it. He must be going through something similar since he'd looked surprised when he'd finally felt her. She knew that proximity eased the bond. In that regard, it was like a rubber band: the further they were from each other over time, the more tension built up in the bond. If they saw each other regularly, that tension eased. Given that they didn't see each other all that often, she had to assume her willingness to stop fighting it had also eased the tension. She wondered if the lack of discomfort is what had kept Ron from asking to sever it, she wondered if that was part of why she hadn't gone to him either. She shook her head. That wasn't the reason and she knew it. She didn't go to Ron, because in spite of everything that had happened, she still loved him. She wished she didn't, had tried really hard not to, but inevitably, whenever she thought of him, saw him, experienced him in anyway, she felt that ache, and it had nothing to do with the bond. The bond was superfluous to the larger problem. The bond could be broken. Her feelings, however, seemed to be immutable, which left her angry and frustrated with herself.

On the surface, she and Ron were an unlikely match, but then love wasn't a surface emotion. She knew from years of experience that their differences made them stronger and better together than apart. She wanted to go home and she didn't just mean to London.

xXx

The next morning, the post arrived while Viktor and Hermione were eating breakfast in their suite. Viktor was sorting through the letters when Hermione said, "I'm going back to London."

He looked up at her. "Oh? I thought you were staying for the press tour."

"I know, but I'd like to get back, look at my schedule, start contacting people about testing. Then I can take a few days off when you get home. We can have some quiet time just to ourselves."

He looked down at the letter he'd just opened. "Or you could join me in America."

"What? I thought you were coming home after the European tour."

"I thought so too," Viktor said as he scanned the letter. "But apparently, we are meant to do a series of expedition games in North America, starting in New York."

"Oh." Her heart sank.

He smiled at her. "Have you ever been to the United States?"

"No."

"Me either. It will be fun. An adventure for both of us."

"How long is the tour?"

He looked down at the letter. "Ten weeks."

"Ten weeks? That's all the way to Christmas. I can't be gone that long."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Cannot or will not?" 

She sighed. "I wish I could explain to you how significant this project is. It's hugely important. The Quidditch cushion pales in comparison."

He raised both eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"Yes. I can't put it off until after Christmas. I need to get the final phase of testing going. Once that's in place, maybe I can join you in America for a few days."

He sighed and looked down at the letter. "Okay."

"I don't understand why they added so many extra dates at the last minute."

He cleared his throat. "Well, there was some talk early on about extending the tour through North America to take advantage of the off-season and to build interest in the World Cup over there."

"Then why am I just hearing about it now?" She tried not to sound as irritated as she felt.

He shrugged. "It did not look like it was going to happen, but I guess they worked out the issues they were having."

"But you'll be home for Christmas?"

"Yes. I will be back on Christmas day."

Hermione shook her head. "Great. That's just great."

"Are you still going back to London?"

She glared at him. "My situation hasn't changed."

He frowned at her. "Of course."

"Well, it hasn't. I have a job too. I can't be expected to drop everything for an additional ten weeks just because the International Quidditch Association decided to change their schedule."

"You have complete control over your time. If you wanted to push back your project, you could."

"Probably, yes, but I don't want to. It's important."

"What you mean is that it is more important than my work."

"I didn't say that." She looked away from him.

"But it is what you think."

"And you think Quidditch is the most important thing in the world, but I suppose that's reasonable."

"Quidditch is important and careers are limited. Some players are lucky to stay five years. Ten is a good career. Twenty and you are a legend."

"What's your point?"

"I am saying, Quidditch is important, because I am only going to get to do it for so long. You have told me that there are people at your job that are in their hundreds. Quidditch is not like that."

She sighed. "Fine. I get it. You have to take what you can get while you can get it, but you're already past the five-year mark. I can't put my life on hold and follow you around waiting to see if you get a good career or a legendary one."

He shook his head. "You do not understand the significance."

"Of what?"

"Becoming a legend. You made your mark on the world when you were so young, you cannot even comprehend desiring that kind of significance."

She shook her head. "The world has marked me far more than I will ever mark it. I just want to help make peoples' lives better. I don't want to be a legend. I'm just trying to balance the scales."

"Balance? What are you trying to offset?"

She held out her left hand. "Lives I've taken." She held out her right. "People I've helped."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Hermione…"

"Don't," she said, standing. "I'm going home."

He didn't try to stop her.


	17. America

Two weeks later, Hermione was trying to psych herself up for going to the United States. After all, Viktor was right, she'd never been, and it was a good opportunity for a little adventure with him, only she wasn't in the mood for an adventure. Taking a Portkey all the way across the Atlantic just for a few days seemed frivolous and exhausting. All she really wanted to do was stay and keep an eye on the testing. So far, things had been going really well. The thought of leaving made her anxious, like she might jinx the project somehow if she didn't stay on top of it every single second. Nonetheless, she packed a couple of bikinis and some party clothes in her beaded bag and went outside with her Portkey. She was already running late. She was meant to be there at nine, and it was already after ten in the States. She yawned. It was almost three o'clock in the morning and she hadn't had time for a nap.

xXx

Viktor was irritated. Hermione was over an hour late. These days she was always late if she managed to show up at all, which was particularly irritating, because she had never been like that before, not in school, and not when they were first together. He pulled another beer out of the ice bucket on the hotel dresser and opened it. The rest of the team had already gone to the club, which was an easy walk down the street from the hotel. He looked at his watch again and tried to calculate how much longer he was willing to wait. He wouldn't be surprised if her Patronus showed up at any moment and said she wasn't coming. There was a knock on the door. He looked through the peephole and there she was, still in the long charcoal gray robes she wore to work. Her hair was in a loosening braid with stray tendrils framing her face. She looked exhausted. He sighed and opened the door. "Hello."

"Hi. Sorry I'm late."

"I had started to think you were not going to make it. You are still in your work robes and you need to do something about your hair. The rest of the team is already waiting for us at the club." He tried to curb the irritation in his voice, but he was sure by the sour look on her face that it had registered.

Hermione looked down at her robes and sighed. "I came right from work. I need a few minutes."

"Oliver is here too," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "He's on the English National Team this year."

"Great." She took the beer from his hand and drank it as she walked into the loo. A few minutes later, she came out of the bathroom, alert and looking ready to party in a short skirt and a bikini top. She'd straightened her hair and put it up, covered her scars, and he suspected, she'd taken Wideye Potion. "Ready?" she asked, setting the now empty beer bottle next to his on the dresser.

xxx

An hour later, Viktor was positive that everything he'd ever heard about the American club scene was true. One of the Americans had suggested body shots and slid on to a section the huge bar that covered the entire length of the club. Viktor laughed as Hermione rolled her eyes at him when her turn came around. Oliver had just licked salt off her shoulder and used his teeth to take the shot glass balanced between her breasts and her bikini top, when Hermione saw something, dropped the lime from between her lips, and sat up. Viktor turned to see what had caught her attention, but all he saw was the throbbing crowd on the dance floor.

"Hey!" Oliver said. "I wanted that."

"Sorry," Hermione said, sliding off the bar.

Viktor grabbed her arm as she came toward him. "Are you all right?" The last time she'd run through a packed dance floor she'd been after Draco Malfoy.

"I'm fine." She pulled away from him. "I just have to use the loo." Her hand slipped from his, and she was quickly swallowed by the crowd.

After a while, when Hermione still hadn't returned, Viktor walked to the corner of the club where the toilets were, but she wasn't there. He went to the nearest of the club's several bars thinking she might be waiting on a drink, but she wasn't there either. He walked through the whole club, weaving his way through dancers, but she was nowhere to be seen. As he was headed back to the team, contemplating a location spell, he spotted her coming through the hallway that led to a side exit. She stopped for a moment and stared at the mirror that lined the hallway into the dance floor and then headed right for him.

He walked toward her, stepping out of the crowd and toward the hall to the exit. "Where have you been?" he shouted over the music.

"I ran into a friend," she shouted back.

"Here?"

"Yes. I'm tired. I'm going back to the hotel."

Irritated that she'd arrived late and was now leaving early, he followed her out of the club. She didn't even say goodbye to his teammates, not even Oliver, but he didn't want to continue trying to have a conversation over the pounding music. The walk back to the hotel was short and silent. When they stepped into the elevator, Hermione slipped off her heels, and sighed with relief as she picked them up. As they came out of the elevator on to their floor, a flash went off. Hermione had her wand in her hand immediately, but Viktor caught her arm. "It's a press tour," he whispered. She lowered her hand. Walking down the hall, they saw another flash. Viktor heard a strangled growl from Hermione. He knew she hated the paparazzi.

When they were finally back in their hotel room, she turned to him and said, "I'm done."

"Done with what?"

"This," she said. Taking her wand, she started at the top of her head and dropped every charm she currently had in place. When she reached her toes, she stepped back from Viktor. She stood there with her hair down and curly, still in a bikini top and a mini skirt. The scar between her breast, as well as the thick one down her side, were visible. She wasn't wearing makeup or nail polish and looked sad and tired. "I can't do this anymore. I don't even recognize myself when I'm out with you."

Viktor shrugged. "You don't want to do glamour charms, don't do them."

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. "It's not just the charms. It's the whole lifestyle."

"If you don't want to go out, don't go out."

"Okay, so when am I going to see you? Are you going to stop going out?"

He scowled at her. "What is the matter? Why is this suddenly a problem? What friend did you run into?"

"I ran into George, but he doesn't have anything to do with this."

"George who?"

She steeled herself for his response. "George Weasley."

"You went to the loo and ran into your ex's brother, the one who brought you home drunk from Harry's wedding, and you were gone for almost an hour."

"We went for coffee."

"You left the club with Ron's brother?" He couldn't believe her audacity.

"Yes. It's impossible to have a conversation over the music."

"And now you tell me you don't recognize yourself."

"That has nothing to do with George," she reiterated.

"Weird coincidence then," he said sarcastically.

"Maybe, but I don't want this anymore. It's exhausting."

"Then what do you want?"

She looked around at the hotel room. "More than this. A real home. A family. A life."

He didn't mean to laugh, but a short bark of laughter, slipped past his lips before he could stop it. "A family?"

She glared at him. "There is nothing wrong with wanting a family."

"No, there is not. Are you going to quit your job?"

"What?"

"Because if not, I do not see how you have time for babies."

"Obviously, there would have to be adjustments," she sputtered.

His ran his hand down her deeply scarred side. "Have you even talked to a healer about—"

She pushed his hand away angrily. "There is nothing wrong with me."

"Are you sure?" he asked, positive now that she hadn't consulted a healer about whether she could get pregnant again. "Because you haven't cast a contraception charm in ages, and I know there have been times I've forgotten."

"I'm fine," she hissed.

"And what about the drinking?" he asked, pressing her. "When is that going to stop?"

"I wouldn't drink if I was pregnant. You know that."

He let out a soft snort. "Might be harder to quit than you think. You weren't much of a drinker last time, and next time, you will have to stop smoking too."

She clenched her jaw. "I see. It's not that you don't want children. You just don't want them with me. You think I'm some kind of junkie that can't control myself."

"I did not say that. But you talk about my lifestyle being the problem, but it is not just me."

She blew out a slow breath, and he knew and appreciated that she was trying to control her temper. She could be scary when she was angry. "You know what? You're right. Look, you saved me at a time in my life when I really needed saving, but I think we're holding each other back now, instead of holding each other up." A tear slipped down her cheek. "I will always be grateful to you, Viktor, but I don't think I can do this anymore. I'm getting lost in it all. I don't feel like myself anywhere but at work, and that's no way to live."

He frowned at her, annoyed that she seemed to be blaming all her problems on him. "Then stop living like that. What has that got to do with me? That is your choice."

She nodded. "You're right. I can't get myself sorted like this. I just can't."

"Hermione—" he said.

"Don't. Just don't. Finish your tour. Live your life. I'm going home. I'm done here."

And just like that, she was gone. Viktor stared at the spot where she'd been standing a moment ago. He let out a string of Bulgarian expletives. She was impossible. How were they supposed to resolve anything with her on the other side of the Atlantic? He shook his head in frustration and decided to go back to the club. Sitting around the hotel room alone would be pointless. She would calm down, and they could sort this at Christmas, when he returned to England.


	18. Hampstead

Hermione Disapparated to the roof, pulled the Portkey she'd made for the return out of her purse, and charged it to go. Twenty minutes later, she was back in England on the balcony of Viktor's flat. Two such long Portkey rides in one day was too much. All the beer and Tequila she'd had at the club came back up. She took deep breaths and waited for her stomach to settle before she took out her wand and cast a spell to clean the balcony. She went inside and looked around. Early morning sunlight was streaming in through the French doors illuminating the flat. There wasn't much that reflected her there. Even though she knew he wouldn't be returning for weeks, the idea of continuing to sleep in Viktor's home after they'd broken up left her cold. In the interest of expediency, she packed her clothes and some books in her beaded bag and left for her parents' house. The rest of her belongings could be picked up later.

xXx

The house looked exactly like she'd left it the last time she'd been there, when Viktor had kicked her out of his flat for not telling him that Ron had helped test the Quidditch Pitch Cushion. She walked around opening curtains and letting in the daylight. The house was dusty, and there was a whiff of Doxy in the air. She made a mental note to buy Doxicide and continued opening up the house. As she went, she cast dusting spells and cleaning charms she'd learned from Molly Weasley, when they had attempted to clean Grimmauld Place the summer after fifth year. When she reached the first-floor bedroom she'd shared with Viktor, she looked at the bed. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to take a long nap, but the idea of sleeping in a bed she'd shared with him just reminded her that she'd cut herself adrift. Sighing, she closed the door and continued down the hall to the stairs. She didn't bother stopping in her parents' old room. There was no furniture in it since she'd been renovating it, and the attached nursery, a couple of years ago when she was pregnant. She'd lost the baby before finishing and had sealed up the nursery and left the main room undone.

Upstairs were her childhood bedroom and two guest rooms. She'd already emptied the smaller of the two guest rooms of its furniture so she could use it to store mementos that she'd kept of her parents, family photo albums, and her old school trunk. The remaining guest room was the one Ron had stayed in when they'd visited her parents before the war. That room was the scene of their disastrous first sexual encounter. She snorted at the memory. What a mess, but they'd sorted it out quickly. Even though that was only six years ago, it felt like a lifetime. She missed that girl, so driven, so sure of herself, unbroken. And she missed Ron. She didn't want to, but she did, at least that Ron, who was so earnest, so lighthearted, unbroken. Sadly, she closed the door. That furniture would need to go too. She didn't want to look at it anymore. She continued down the hall to her old bedroom. Opening the door, she knew she couldn't sleep in that bed either. That bed was where they'd worked out how to express their love physically, where they'd lain curled together and slept through the night, never awoken by the war or the nightmares that came after. She closed the door without even going into the room. It would all have to go. She couldn't look at any of it. All the furnishings just screamed failure to her now. She retreated downstairs to the parlor, which had been completely redone after her parents were murdered. There was nothing in that room that had been purchased by them, nothing that had anything to do with Ron. She'd bought the sofa and chairs and the big Persian carpet herself after she'd left Ron. The house was cold, so she started a fire, lay down on the sofa, pulled an old wool throw over her, and closed her eyes.

xXx

As Christmas approached, and the trials for String-Apparition were coming to a successful close, Hermione found it increasingly difficult to be on her own. She'd forgotten how large and empty her parent's house was. She'd gotten rid of everything downstairs when they were murdered, but had left the upstairs intact. After she left Viktor, she'd cleaned out the rest of the house, but after she'd gotten rid of everything and put a fresh coat of paint on the walls, she hadn't taken the time to replace the furniture. The bottom floor remained the only level with any furnishings. She hadn't even bought a bed yet. When she slept at home instead of at work, she slept on the sofa in the parlor in front of the fireplace. She really needed to do some shopping.

The day before Christmas Eve, she found herself with no reason to go into work and nothing to do. For a long time, she hadn't bought any new clothes that weren't for going out to galas or clubs. While she'd been purging her parent's house, she'd purged her closet as well. Anything that looked like she'd be ashamed to wear it in front of her father went into the rubbish bin. Her ballgowns and party dresses went into a trunk in the spare room upstairs. In the end, her closet was devoid of most anything but the traditional robes she wore to work and a few old clothes she'd had before she started dating Viktor. She made good money and didn't spend much, so she decided her day was best spent on a shopping spree. Happy Christmas to her.

Furniture shopping was too daunting, so she Apparated to Diagon Alley and then walked down the street to Madam Malkins. Padma and Parvati greeted her with big smiles. They'd recently purchased the place from the original Madam Malkin, but intended to leave the name as it was for the time being. They asked her about the recent article in _Witch Weekly_ that featured her breakup with Krum.

"Oh," Hermione said, shrugging it off. "We just wanted different things in the end. The article made it sound a lot more dramatic than it was."

"So, you didn't have a screaming row in America?" Padma asked.

"No. It was more of a quiet disagreement. Although, it was in America, so they got that bit right."

Padma and Parvati both shook their heads. "You must be sick to death of the publicity," Padma said.

Hermione nodded. "So much so I could vomit."

"How can we help?" Parvati asked. "What do you need?"

"Just regular clothes, the lot, really. Basically, I need a whole new wardrobe."

Parvati nodded. "Any particular fabrics or colors?"

"Nothing too flashy. You know me. I just want to look like myself. That's all."

"Of course," Parvati said. " You look thinner than the last time I saw you. Can I get some measurements?"

"Sure," Hermione said. "But if it's too form fitting, I don't want it. I'm a bit over that at the moment."

Parvati nodded again. "I understand."

xXx

A few minutes later, Hermione was standing on a pedestal in her underwear, in a room at the back of the store while Parvati took her measurements with a charmed tape measure. She hadn't cast the glamour spell to cover the scars, because she needed Parvati to see where they were so she could add cushioning charms to her clothes, so they didn't irritate the scars. Viktor had suggested that and always had them incorporated into the clothes he'd purchased for her from Madam Malkin. She appreciated that Parvati didn't mention the scars or the war or Ron. She did her job quickly and told Hermione to get dressed. She pulled on her jeans that were just about worn through at the knees and a flannel shirt she'd worn during her days on the run with Ron and Harry. She sat down on the pedestal to pull on her boots, which had also seen better days.

Parvati gave her a concerned look. "Are you all right?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm just really tired. This whole thing has been exhausting."

"Of course, it has," Parvati said. "But you'll get through it. You just need time."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks."

"Go look around. I'm going to pull a few things I think you'll like, and then we'll see what we have."

Hermione went back out to the front of the store and wandered through the clothing racks.

She was looking at underwear when she heard the bell indicating someone new had entered the shop. She looked up to see Ginny walk in. Ginny smiled broadly when she saw her.

"Hermione," she said and walked over to give her hug. "How are you? I heard about…you know."

"Oh, I'm fine. It was a long time coming. It's so good to see you. It's been ages."

"Yeah, yeah, it has. I'm so sorry about missing the last two dinners. I really wanted to see you."

"I was so disappointed you couldn't come." They smiled at each other.

"So, doing a little last-minute Christmas shopping?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, not really," Hermione said. "I felt the need for a wardrobe change. Happy Christmas to me, I guess."

Ginny smiled sympathetically. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

"Um," Hermione said. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"You should come to the Burrow if you don't have plans. Mum and Dad would love to see you, and so would the brothers and their various and sundry broods. You know Harry and I want you there. You should come."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. I doubt _all_ your brothers would want to see me. Besides, I ran into George a while ago, and he said Ron was seeing someone seriously, so I don't think she'd appreciate my presence."

"Are you talking about that healer he was seeing? That's been over for weeks now. He's on his own these days. Hasn't been dating anyone lately, and I know he'd love to see you. Not to mention, none of us want you spending Christmas on your own. We can't have that. Come tomorrow and stay over. It'll be fun. Say you'll come."

Hermione hesitated. "You're sure?" 

"Of course."

"Well, I couldn't come in until late. I have a rather significant meeting tomorrow evening that's likely to run several hours."

"On Christmas Eve?"

"It's a small international meeting. Not all the countries involved celebrate Christmas, besides it's kind of a critical issue, and that was the first day we could get everyone there."

"All right then, come late."

Hermione bit her bottom lip, considering the implications, but then she considered the alternative, which seemed pretty bleak. If she went and it was clear Ron didn't want her there, she could always go home. "You know what? I will. Thank you. Christmas at the Burrow sounds wonderful."

"I wouldn't go that far. It's a madhouse, really, but it's fun."

Padma came over with a dress bag. "Here you go Ginny."

"Thanks," Ginny said, taking the bag. "Padma altered a dress for me for New Year's Eve."

"Parvati says she has a stack of clothes for you to try on, Hermione," Padma said.

"Great," Hermione said.

"I'll see you in a couple of days then," Ginny said with another warm smile.

"Right. "I'll see you then."

xXx

That night Hermione sat in her parlor drinking wine and staring at the fire. She was nervous about the idea of Christmas at the Burrow, but also excited. Being back with the Weasleys would be so nice. She loved Ron's family and had missed them a lot, but she couldn't help wondering how Ron would feel about her being there. Ginny seemed very blasé about it, which probably meant Ron was completely over her, so it wouldn't matter to him. She wondered if there was any way they could ever be friends again. She missed him. Ron could always make her laugh when no one else could. Maybe there was a way to have that kind of friendship with him again. She wasn't sure if it was possible to go back to being friends after you'd been lovers. Viktor seemed to have managed it with several women, but she wasn't sure if she could. If only Ron wanted her back the way she wanted him, but she knew he didn't. After he'd apologized at Harry's, she thought he might follow up, but it never happened. Better to go with the assumption that he was done. She would be casual and friendly. It was time to let bygones be bygones. Maybe they could be friends again. It wouldn't be the same, but she'd take something over nothing any day.


	19. Auld Lang Syne

Hermione Apparated to the garden gate at the Burrow just after midnight. She'd told Ginny she'd be late, but she hadn't thought it would be this late. She considered going home and just coming back in the morning, but there was a light on in the kitchen, and she could see Harry through the window. They'd waited up. She took a deep breath and opened the gate. She would just stop in and say hi, apologize for making them wait up, and then she could go back in the morning. She knocked on the door.

Harry opened it and gave her hug. "It's so good to see you."

"You too," Hermione said, smiling.

Ginny was behind him and hugged her next. "I'm so glad you made it."

"I'm sorry I'm so late. I should've thought this through and come in the morning."

"Nonsense," Ginny said.

"This is perfect," Harry said.

Hermione knew Ron was in the house the moment, she'd walked in, but now she found herself anxious for his appearance. "I suppose everyone else has gone to bed."

"Not everyone," Ginny said.

Ron stepped out of the hallway into the kitchen and smiled warmly, but he kept his hands in his back pockets.

"Well, hullo stranger," Hermione said. _Easy, breezy,_ she reminded herself, even though she felt anything but.

Ron crossed the room to her. "How are you? You look great."

"I wouldn't go so far as great." Hermione winked at him. "But I'm good."

They all chuckled.

She noticed a copy of _Witch Weekly_ on the table and picked it up. "A fairly flattering picture, if I do say so myself. Did you lot read the article?"

Ginny nodded. "That bitch."

Hermione shrugged. "Rita never has liked me."

"To be fair," Harry said. "You did keep her in a jar for several weeks."

Hermione laughed. "That I did. Mind if I have some cocoa? It's bitter outside. Just the walk through the garden left me freezing."

"I'll get it," Ron said, getting a mug from the cupboard.

"I don't suppose you have anything to put in it?" Hermione asked.

"No," Ginny answered. "More's the pity. I'll have to be stone sober around Fleur all holiday. The healers have said no more alcohol for Dad, and Mum's scoured the house clean. If you even try to cross the threshold with a bottle the door screams at you."

"Good to know," Hermione said, taking the mug of hot cocoa from Ron. If she hadn't been running so late, she would've stopped and gotten a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey as a gift. She was really glad she hadn't done that.

Harry let out a huge yawn and stretched. "I'm knackered. I have to go to bed. I'll see you two in the morning. Hermione, we don't see you often enough."

Hermione nodded. "I know. I'll work on that, I promise."

"I'll go up with you, Harry," Ginny said, standing. "Good night you two."

Hermione watched Harry and Ginny leaving. It was obvious that they wanted her and Ron to have some time alone together and had wordlessly conspired to make that happen. They had always been so in sync that way. "That's a relationship that worked out nicely."

"They're good together," Ron said. "Always have been."

"I could really use a drink," Hermione said, looking into her mug of cocoa.

Ron cleared his throat. "I have the strong stuff back at my flat. If you fancy a drink, we could pop out there for a bit."

Hermione looked at him, studying his face for a moment, but he was hard to read. "That'll do."

"You want to side-along? I'm not connected to the Floo."

Hermione shook her head. "No. You Apparate, I'll follow."

Ron looked at her. "How? You've never been there before."

"It's a new thing I've developed. It's a string trail. I touch you with my wand as you Apparate and then I follow the string."

"That's brilliant."

Hermione smiled. "We're still testing it, but all the trials are going really well. We should be able to release the spell to the public soon. It promises to revolutionize how people learn to Apparate."

Ron grinned at her. "You never cease to amaze me. Come on, let's have that drink."

She touched her wand to him and he disappeared with a pop.

xXx

A moment later, Hermione appeared next to him in his flat and the string faded.

"That's very clever," Ron said, his eyes wide.

"Well, that's me, isn't it?" Hermione pocketed her wand. "All cleverness and books." She laughed lightly, but even she could hear that it didn't quite come off as light as she meant it to.

Ron looked at her carefully. "As I recall, there was a bit more to you than that."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and looked around the room. The flat was nicely proportioned with high ceilings and dark wood wainscoting. A large, built-in bookcase dominated one wall. She browsed through the spines. Most of the books dealt with charms and Quidditch, but she noticed a large section at the bottom that was dedicated to fighting the dark arts.

Ron lit a couple of candles and tapped the wireless with his wand. Soft music filled the room. Hermione looked at him. "Is that jazz?"

"Yeah. I quite like it."

"But that's Muggle music. How are you getting it on a Magical radio?"

Ron puffed out his chest with pride. "That would be one of my inventions. It's a half-blood radio. It's gets both kinds of music."

She was impressed. "That's brilliant." 

"Yeah." He gave her a cheeky wink. "It is. Glass of wine?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I have firewhiskey."

"Two fingers, neat, please."

He poured her drink and a glass of water for himself. He handed the glass to her, and she put a book on mechanical charms back on the shelf.

"This is a nice place," she observed.

"Yeah, I like it. It's all I need right now."

"I've got way more than I need now." She took a sip of her drink.

Ron sat down on one end of the sofa. "Harry told me you moved back into your parents' place."

"Yes, a few weeks ago. It's really too big."

"You could sell it," Ron suggested. "Get something smaller, more manageable."

"I don't want to sell it. I want to fill it. Viktor, unfortunately, had other ideas." She closed her eyes and sipped her drink.

"Ah. Viktor not a family man?"

Hermione sighed. "He says he is, but he isn't really. Not now anyway. He's enjoying his celebrity status too much and why shouldn't he? He travels all the time with the teams. He's so good and still young. I know he's got at least another ten years of Quidditch in him, and I just don't want to wait that long." It was good to talk to Ron like that. No jealousy, no pointed remarks, just old friends talking. She needed that.

Ron nodded and set his glass on the coffee table. "Hence the breakup?"

"Yes," Hermione said and drained her glass. "Mind if I have another?"

"Have all you like."

Hermione poured herself a stiff drink and sat back down, facing him, with one arm along the back of the sofa. She slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet under her. She looked around at the flat. "You're a great deal tidier than you used to be."

"Dobby cleans it for me."

She arched an eyebrow. He knew how she felt about the exploitation of house elves.

Ron held up his hands. " I'll have you know I pay him twice what he was making at Hogwarts. He lives with Harry and Ginny now."

"Yes, I know. Not surprising."

They sat quietly for a moment while Hermione sipped her drink.

Ron moved his arm along the back of the sofa and gently stroked his thumb along hers. "It's good to see you."

His touch shot through her like electricity. She looked up at him. "You too." She took another sip of her drink and didn't move her hand. It felt so good to just to have the tip of his thumb against her skin. She knew it was likely just the bond. She'd been away, which had stretched the bond taught, proximity was easing it, which was always a relief. _It doesn't mean anything_ , she reminded herself. She just wished it did. "What's wrong with me, Ron?" The question slipped out before she'd even thought it.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Nothing. I'm just tried." She finished her drink and stood to get another.

Ron caught her hand. "Don't." He took the glass from her and stood. "Let's go back."

Hermione looked at him. His eyes were dark in the low light but the desire she saw there was unmistakable. It was Christmas Eve, not a night to be alone. Nostalgia seemed as good a reason as any to get laid. Anything, not to go home alone. "Let's not pretend," she said, her voice husky from the whiskey. "That you invited me here just for a drink."

Ron closed his eyes for a moment. "Maybe this isn't—"

"You don't have to be sweet about it. I'd rather you weren't actually." Panicked he was actually going to turn her down, she slid her hand under his jumper. He ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers in a gesture that was at once new and yet achingly familiar. She pushed up his jumper and he pulled it off the rest of the way, taking his T-shirt with it.

He kissed her neck. "Bedroom?" 

She'd made that comment about not being sweet, so she felt she needed to back it up with something bold. "What's wrong with right here?" She pulled him by the waistband of his trousers to the wall next to the bookcase.

Ron's eyes widened. "Not a thing."

She pulled her own jumper over her head, leaving behind a thin camisole. He didn't manage to get his pants all the way off before she was stroking him. She stopped just long enough to slip out of her jeans and underwear. Ron seemed a little stunned. _Good_ , she thought, _surprising was sexy._ Sliding her arms around his neck, she gave a little hop. He snapped back into focus and caught her as she wrapped her legs around his hips. It took him a moment to adjust and slip inside her.

She took in a sharp breath. She'd miscalculated her readiness versus his size, so she cast a wandless, nonverbal Inlubrico.

"Are you alright?" Ron gasped, holding still.

"Yes." She clenched herself around him, and grazed his shoulder with her teeth.

Again, he seemed momentarily stunned and rested his forehead against the wall.

"Come on, Ron." She wasn't in a position to thrust, so she needed him to rally, or she was going to start thinking about what they were doing and that would be bad. That would be very bad.

He shifted her weight, pressing her tighter against the wall to brace her, so he could move his hips, sliding in and out of her in sharp hard thrusts.

 _What a terrible idea_ , she thought. It was too rough, too much like the bad days at the end of their relationship. She couldn't relax into it, couldn't enjoy the animal rutting of it. Instead, she felt precarious both physically and emotionally, and she needed it to stop. As if on cue, he spilled inside her with a low groan. He set her down awkwardly. "Wand, wand," he muttered.

Hermione let out a soft snort, grateful that it was over, and amused at his frantic realization. "Still can't remember to cast the bloody charm?"

Ron found his wand, cast the contraception charm and glared at her. "Only with you. I never forget with anyone else, just you."

"Well," Hermione said, her smile fading. She felt sick. "Lucky me. Let's have another drink, shall we?" She picked up her own wand and cast a cleansing charm as she walked into his kitchen wearing nothing but the camisole, which was long and fell to the tops of her thighs, for which she was grateful. Ron pulled up his trousers and followed her. She poured half a glass of whiskey for herself, and looked over her shoulder at him. "Want one?"

Ron shook his head. He stepped behind her and cupped her breasts. "I like these. A bit bigger now than they used to be."

Hermione let her head fall back against his chest. In spite of the awkwardness of what had just happened, she still didn't want to go home alone. She could salvage the night. "Could be," she said, but of course, she knew they were. Her breasts had gotten a lot bigger while she was pregnant and hadn't completely returned to their original size after she lost the baby.

His squeezed her breasts while he rained kisses on her neck and shoulders, before sucking the spot, just behind her ear, that made her squirm. It felt so good, but maybe they should leave things where they were. After all, if they stopped now, it wouldn't be so hard to let go. Awkward sex hardly begged for an encore. _Stop now and forget it_ , she thought. "Ron?"

"Hmm?" he murmured against her skin.

"Shouldn't we be getting back?"

He ran a hand down past her stomach to cup her sex, and she felt a wave of embarrassment at the stubble he found there. "No," he said. "You know the rules, no one goes home without an orgasm."

She forced out a laugh and moved his hand, before turning around to face him. "I don't think it's necessary to follow that one tonight."

"Of course, it's necessary," Ron said, frowning. "What's got into you?"

Irritated, she folded her arms across her chest. Why couldn't he just take the hint and let it go? "You mean aside from you, just now? Not a lot."

"You're standing here half-naked in my kitchen telling me you don't want to get off? That's not right."

She shrugged with forced nonchalance and deliberately responded as if she misunderstood. "If I can't stand around half-naked in front of you, Ron, then I can't do it with anyone. You've seen it all before. It's old hat to you."

"And yet," Ron said, stepping closer. "I never get tired of it. So, put down that drink, go get in my bed, and take your shagging like a good girl."

She looked at him for a long moment, weighing her options. If she pressed the issue, they would go back to the Burrow, but he'd be surly, and that would make staying for Christmas impossible. On the other hand, if she walked into that bedroom, anything could happen. Leaving would leave her heart intact, such as it was, but if he took her to bed, the sex might feel an awful lot like making love, and that could do her in. She might not recover from that. She couldn't imagine what on earth had possessed her to come on to him. She looked down at the glass in her hand. _Ah, yes, liquid courage_. _Liquid stupidity_ , she thought, _but in for a penny, in for a pound._ She set her glass on the counter and strolled as casually as she could out of the kitchen.

Ron kicked off his boots and dropping his trousers. "You better run." 

She laughed as she climbed on to his bed. Laughing was good. Keeping it light was important. _It's just a romp_ , she thought. _You can handle that. Focus on technique, don't get caught up in the emotions, just have a good time. You know how to do that; you've been doing it for years._ When he reached the doorway, she was still on all fours on the bed. She looked over her shoulder at him. "Come on, big boy."

He laughed. "Cheeky." He grabbed her hips. Ron seemed to get what she wanted out of the evening and kept shifting their position. She went along, happy to play sexual show-and-tell. Showing off was playful, and they both stayed away from the more intimate positions. He didn't seem to want that any more than she did, which was a relief. Unfortunately, she couldn't quite get her mind to settle and let her body completely take over. She kept skating along the edge of orgasm, but never tipping over. Ron did his best, but eventually he couldn't hold out any longer, and spilled inside her a second time, before collapsing on to his back next to her. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she said, without looking at him. "I'm good."

"Yes, you are, but I can't have you thinking I've forgotten how to please a woman."

She let out of soft snort. "I'm quite pleased. I'm just tired. It's been a stressful few weeks. I'm wound up. That's not your fault."

He ran his fingers down her back. "Still, I'd really like to unwind you."

She chuckled softly. "Seriously, that's not necessary."

"I think it is," he mused. "But first, are you hungry?"

She smiled at him. "Starving. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast."

"Come with me." He rolled out of bed, grabbed his wand, and cast a cleansing charm before pulling on a pair of boxer shorts and heading to the kitchen.

Hermione had lost track of where he'd thrown her camisole, so she cast her own charm and grabbed one of his T-shirts off a wing chair in the corner of the room and pulled it over her head as she followed him. The shirt fell almost to her knees.

Ron was rummaging through the cabinets when she walked into the kitchen. "Hmm, I don't seem to have much in the way of food. How about cheese toasties?"

"That sounds perfect." She took a seat at the small bistro table in the kitchen. She couldn't help wondering what had happened to the old table they'd had in the flat over Fred and George's shop. She'd noticed most of the furniture was new but there were some pieces, like the wing chair in the bedroom, that had been theirs when they were together.

Ron pulled out a cast iron skillet and used his wand to put a flame under it on the cook top. He poured them each a large glass of pumpkin juice and then started slicing bread and cheese. Hermione sipped her juice. "I really like your flat."

"Thanks. Me too. I looked at loads of places, most of them quite a bit bigger, but dunno, I walked into this place, and it just felt like home."

"You have a balcony off the living room?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "It overlooks Muggle London instead of the alley, but that's all right. I rather like Muggle London."

She smiled at him. "I love a balcony."

"I…um…yeah, me too." He slathered butter on two slices of bread and set them in the hot skillet and then began piling cheese on top. He added the top pieces of bread and waited. Without turning to look at her, he said, "So, I guess the breakup has been pretty stressful."

"Not really." The loneliness was hard, but it wasn't Viktor she longed for. "Actually, that was probably long overdue. Work is what's so stressful right now."

Ron flipped the toasties in the pan and turned around. "Really?"

"As it turns out, changing the way people learn to Apparate is stressful on an international scale."

"Ah," Ron said. "I guess all the governing bodies and licensing groups are involved."

"Yes, and they all want demonstrations and assurances, and they have opinions, and there has to be debate."

Ron smiled. "Sounds tedious." He turned back around and took the sandwiches out of the skillet, cut them in half, and plated them. He added a couple of dill pickles before handing Hermione a plate.

"Thanks. These look great."

Ron pulled his sandwich apart and gooey cheese strung between the two halves. "I love a cheese toastie."

She smiled at him. "I remember. For a while, after the war, that's all you wanted to eat. Your mum must have made hundreds of them."

"Yeah," he said quietly.

Embarrassed that she'd brought up the war, Hermione looked away from him as she ate and noticed a small radio on the windowsill next to the table. "Is that another halfblood radio?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"How does it work?"

"Easy, tap the dial with your wand once for magical radio or twice for Muggle radio."

Hermione called her wand to her from the bedroom and tapped the dial twice. She turned it to tune in a Muggle radio station. She smiled as she found Radio 1. "This is wonderful. It's so clever. Do you sell these in your shop?"

"Yeah, they're pretty popular."

"I can see why. I'll have to buy one."

"You're welcome to come in any time. But your money is no good in my shop."

She looked up at him confused. "Why can't I—"

"I have a family discount, but it's not as good as the Golden Trio discount, which is a hundred percent off."

"But—"

"You'd know that if you'd ever been in," Ron said, with a slight edge to his voice. "All my employees know that you and Harry don't pay."

"Oh." She was oddly touched and found herself tearing up. She looked down at the radio and blinked away the tears. "That's very kind."

"It's the least I could do," Ron said, his voice rough with emotion. "After all, you made my work a lot easier."

She set the radio back on the windowsill. "How's that?"

"When you opened up the bond, after the initial shock, which almost knocked me off my chair, I found it a lot easier to focus. No wonder you were so good at school. Part of the power of your magic is sheer concentration."

"Well," she said. "I'm happy it helped."

"Would've been nice to get a little warning before you did it though. It was like being hit with a tidal wave."

"Sorry." She remembered how flooded with his magic she'd felt when she'd opened the bond.

"That's okay. Once it settled down and flowed along with my magic it was fine. Can't help wondering though, why you finally decided to embrace it."

Hermione picked at her food, but her appetite was gone. She shrugged. "I was trying to weave my magic with someone else's to cast a complex spell, and it wasn't working."

"Ah, because my magic is part of your magic, by not letting them flow together—"

"I was wrecking the tapestry."

"But you never cut it off again."

She knew he was challenging her. She just wasn't sure why. She looked at him for a long moment, weighing her options before deciding to just tell the truth. "Turns out, you're not the only one who benefits from leaving the bond open. Your magic is…"

Ron leaned forward. "What?"

"Freer than mine. There's a certain level of whimsy that makes it easier for me to think outside the box, come at problems from different directions. It's been very useful."

Ron's face lit up with a broad smile. "Really? Well, that's great. I always figured…well…good. I'm glad you get something out of it too. And uh…" He paused and tapped his finger on the table a couple of times. "I should have said before, but thank you. For using the bond at the hospital. I know Mum kind of pressured you into that."

"She didn't pressure me. She just asked me."

"Well, even so, I appreciate that you did it. I'm sure it was awkward."

"It wasn't awkward. It was…of course, I did it. Without you, I would've bled to death in that corridor…so naturally…" She stood to put her plate on the counter. This was getting too intense. She needed to get out of there, before she said something really stupid. But when she turned around, Ron was right there and then his hands were cupping her face and he was kissing her, kissing her like he still loved her, kissing her like he never wanted to stop, and in spite of her best judgement, she kissed him back with all the same ardor and emotion.

When he finally let her go, he panted in her ear, "Take it down."

She felt disoriented and weak in the knees. "What?"

"Your hair, release the charms, please."

She sighed and released the charms that had held her hair straightened and in a tight bun all evening. Her curls tumbled down, spilling over her shoulders and down her back.

"Yes," Ron said in a low growl, before he swept her off her feet and carried her back to bed.

Hermione was unprepared for the onslaught that followed. Ron was simply everywhere. There was no controlling what was happening. His mouth and hands were all over her. She couldn't settle on a sensation. She felt like she was coming apart and not in a good way. Finally, she gathered enough of her wits about her to squirm away from him, "Wait, wait," she gasped.

"What?" He looked at her. "Why?"

"I…" she shook her head, and tried to catch her breath.

"Are you all right?" His forehead wrinkling with concern.

"I'm fine," she said, getting out of bed. "I just," she put her hand against the wall and tried to slow her breathing. She glanced out the window and froze. She was looking at Viktor's balcony just down the alley. Her mouth dropped open, and she turned to glare at Ron. He must have known exactly what she'd seen, because his whole face turned beet red.

"You've been spying on me?"

"What? No!" Ron sat up and pulled the sheet over him. "No. It's not what you think?"

"Did you rent this place to keep an eye on me?"

"No, absolutely not. I had no idea you lived that close until I'd already moved in. I'd been living here for almost a month before I saw you out there."

She was so angry she couldn't speak.

"Okay." He held up his palms. "I admit, I liked having you so close. Honestly, I think that's probably why this place felt like home the moment I walked in. I didn't see you then," he quickly added. "But I'm guessing you must have been home. Look at where you're standing though."

She glanced around. She was in the narrow space between the bed and the wall. There was a tall chest of drawers next to her.

"Exactly where you're standing is the only place in this flat with that view. It's not like I have a chair there. I don't spy on you. But if I'm getting a pair of socks or a shirt or something and I happen to see you on the balcony…well, yeah…I stop for a moment and watch you." He slid over to the side of the bed where she was standing. "It's always good to see you. I won't pretend otherwise, but that's it." He held his hand out to her. "Come back to bed."

She looked at him. He seemed so earnest. He was probably right about why this flat had felt like home to him. She suspected that's why Viktor's flat had suddenly felt like home to her, especially when she was on the balcony. She looked at his outstretched hand. She didn't want to leave. She didn't want to waste the rest of the night because of her own insecurities. This might be all she could have, so she wanted all of it. She took his hand and climbed into bed next to him. He kissed her. It was a warm kiss, sweet, and gentle. When they parted, he rolled over on to his back. "Please," he said, reaching for her. "For old time's sake."

She avoided that particular position all evening. When they were together, she was frequently on top, mainly because it was easier for her, and he liked it. He like to watch her make love to him. He liked his hands free to roam her body. He liked it when she leaned forward, and her hair tumbled around him like a curtain. Without a word, she straddled him, closing her eyes as she sank down over him, her hand on his chest, and began to shift her hips in a steady rhythm. His hands slid up her thighs, up her body, and over her breasts. But despite the fact that she had her scars hidden behind glamor charms, he didn't touch the thick scar that ran the length of her right side. He knew it was there, even if he couldn't see it, and he remembered never to touch it. That simple gesture of his fingers skirting around the scar, broke her, she was so close, all she wanted was to let go, to collapse on top of him and sleep for a million years, but his kindness had flooded her mind with other unwanted thoughts, and she was left skating along the edge again.

"Hermione?" His voice was low, just above a whisper. "Look at me. I've got you, let go."

She looked into those deep blue eyes and lost it. Every wall she'd put between them fell. Every protective measure gone. She shuddered and fell forward on top of him. Still twitching, she clung to him as if to let go would send her careening into the void. She closed her eyes and fell asleep with him still tucked inside her.

xXx

Ron woke sometime later when Hermione slid off of him.

"Go back to sleep," she said softly, "I'm just going to use the loo. I'll be back."

He closed his eyes and dozed off. He woke again a little while later and realized she hadn't come back to bed. He wiped a hand down his face, looked at the clock, and got up. He could hear the shower running so he tapped on the door. "Hermione?" He opened it a crack. "Hermione?" he repeated.

She cleared her throat. "Yes?"

"It's five-thirty. I reckon we ought to be getting back before the others start to stir."

Hermione turned off the water and pulled a towel off the rack and into the shower with her. A moment later, she stepped out of the tub with it wrapped around her. "About that." She didn't meet his eyes. "I probably shouldn't go. I should just head back home."

Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you mad? I can't go back without you. They'll go mental."

She shook her head. "It's family time. There's no need for me to intrude on that."

Ron stepped closer to her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "You are family."

"Ron—"

"You're coming. Put some clothes on, or I'll take you like that." He wasn't sure what had happened to upset her, but something was clearly wrong. He'd thought they'd had a breakthrough a few hours ago, but was clearly upset and agitated. She didn't argue though, which was a relief.

She cast several drying charms on her hair and then went through the flat gathering her clothes. Ron wanted her to hurry up so they could go. He felt like if he could just get her back to the Burrow with Harry and the family, she'd settle down. He was pleased though, when she left her hair down and curly.

She was getting dressed when she said, "I don't suppose you have a jumper I could borrow."

"Not one that would fit, well except…" He wasn't sure he should have mentioned it.

"What?"

"I have one Michelle left here ages ago." Ages wasn't exactly accurate, Weeks more like, but he was hardly going to get into that.

She looked at him with an expression that was hard to read, but shrugged. "Sure."

He dug through his closet and grabbed the navy-blue, turtleneck jumper that Michelle had thrown at him the night she'd left. He handed it to Hermione. She and Michelle were so close in size, he knew it would fit. It did. She looked good in navy. He took her hand. "Come on. Let's go home."

xXx

They Apparated separately to the Burrow's garden gate and made their way up the snowy path. Hermione hesitated at the kitchen door and took a step back. The kitchen was lit, and she could see people moving around. She couldn't go in there. She couldn't walk with Ron. They would all know exactly how her night had gone. Regret washed over her. _Stupid, stupid_.

Ron turned to her and took her hand. "Come on."

"There are lights on. People are up. If we go in there—"

"They'll be happy to see us."

"They'll know. I can't, not with that stupid article sitting there on the table. I feel like a slag."

Ron took her by the shoulders. "There isn't an adult in there that hasn't fought next to you, saved your life, or been saved by you. Give them some credit, Hermione. Pull yourself together. Everyone here loves you."

Her breath hitched. She shrugged off his hands, squared her shoulders, and swallowed back the anxiety rising in her throat. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just need to get over myself."

"Don't be sorry." He opened the door. As they walked into the kitchen, he kept his hand on the small of her back like he was afraid she would bolt. She knew that wasn't entirely without cause.

Fleur was sitting at the table feeding a little girl with strawberry blonde hair. They were both ridiculously beautiful. Hermione could see some things never changed. Molly Weasley was using her wand to shred potatoes, fry bacon and crack eggs into a bowl.

"Mum?" Ron closed the door behind them.

"Oh, Ron!" His mother hugged him. "And you've brought Hermione. It's so good to see you, dear." She hugged Hermione warmly and eased a lot of her anxiety.

"Thank you for having me, Molly."

"You're welcome any time, you know that." Molly patted her arm. "Sit down, you two, let me get you some tea."

Hermione sat down at the table, relieved to see that the copy of _Witch Weekly_ had disappeared, she hoped into the dustbin. "How are you Fleur?" she asked.

"I am good, but Marietta will drive me to drink. She screams to eat at the most awful hours, but when I feed her, she eats next to nothing."

In her highchair, Marietta did seem to be spitting out more food than she was consuming, but she was adorable doing it, and Hermione felt a dull ache of longing as she watched Fleur feed her daughter. If she hadn't lost the baby in Bulgaria, she would have her own little girl.

xXx

As more and more of the Weasleys awoke, the noise and activity level reached a fever pitch in the house. Molly put out an enormous breakfast casserole, and everyone dug in enthusiastically. The grandchildren were pushing for presents to be opened, and there seemed to be about forty conversations going on at once. After Harry and Ginny finally came downstairs, the collected family moved from the kitchen to the parlor, where an enormous tree was surrounded by presents. Within minutes the floor was covered in paper and the children were playing with a variety of charmed toys. The adults began opening their presents. Hermione was surprised when Ginny handed her a package. When she ripped back the paper she smiled as she pulled out a maroon sweater with a yellow H on the front. She reached across several children and touched Molly's arm. "Thank you," she said over the din.

Molly patted her hand. "I'm so glad you're here."

Ron leaned over and tapped Ginny on the shoulder, he tilted his head toward the kitchen and she got up and followed him. A few minutes later, Ginny returned to the parlor but Ron didn't, leaving Hermione to wonder where he'd gone.


	20. More than Nostalgia

Ron Apparated directly into his office at the back of his shop in Diagon Alley. He drew his wand and cast Alohomora on a large photo of him and Harry at Quidditch practice in school. The photo slide aside to reveal a safe. He cast a series of security spells to take down the wards around the safe and finally opened the door. He had to take out a bag of galleons and a stack of contracts before he could access another door at the back of the safe, which was charmed to be bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. He tapped a security sequence on the back door with his wand and the whole safe expanded into an entry way to a full-sized door, he opened it and stepped inside. The room was lined with shelves. There were stacks of galleons, because he didn't believe all his assets should be kept in the bank. After all, as he well knew, banks, even Goblin banks, could be successfully robbed. In addition to money, there were other things stored in the vault that were of no value to anyone but him, including his old school trunk, packed with mementos from his days at Hogwarts. He hadn't come in to look at the trunk, but when he saw it, he opened it and removed a small stack of photos he'd shoved in one corner underneath the pile of Hermione's considerable correspondence to him over successive summers. He didn't have his own camera in school, but over the years, Colin Creevey and a few other students had given him photos, mostly of him and Harry and Hermione in the common room or on the grounds, but there were a couple that Colin had snapped of just Hermione in unguarded moments. Ron should have punched him for being such a creeper, but he was grateful to have the snapshots of Hermione on her own, just being herself, and he had to admit, Colin had a keen eye for photography. Ron flipped through the photos for the one he wanted. He smiled when he found it.

There she was sixth year, seventeen, and sitting on a window seat in the library reading. The sunlight pouring through the window played in her curls as she read. She looked so innocent and unencumbered, reading intently on a winter afternoon. It broke his heart when he thought of her last night, edgy, agitated, and probably too drunk to be making good choices. He thought about what he'd come here to do and wondered if it was such a good choice. Maybe it was too soon, maybe he should wait and see how things went between them. He frowned and closed his eyes. No. It wasn't too soon. If anything, it was too bloody late. He wasn't going to wait and see. He'd done that before, waited around, expecting her to come back to him, expecting her tell him what he'd done, expecting her to tell him how to fix it, but she hadn't. Still hadn't. All last night, he'd expected her to say something, to finally discuss the end of their relationship, to finally reveal, what exactly had driven her from the house. He knew he'd done something, but try as he might, he just couldn't remember what. No. He wasn't going to wait. He'd bought it for her, and come what may, he was going to give it to her.

xXx

Ron was in the kitchen talking to his mother when Harry and Hermione came into the house, stamping snow and wet leaves from their boots. "Where've you two been?" he asked.

Harry patted his belly. "Trying to walk off a bit of your Mum's casserole before dinner."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but his father came into the kitchen and interrupted them. "Hermione, Viktor Krum is here to see you."

Ron's heart sank.

For the first time all day, the house fell into silence.

"Oh, okay," Hermione said.

His father grimaced, glancing at Ron and his mother. "He's in the parlor."

Ron saw Hermione take a deep breath and let it out slowly before walking into the parlor.

xXx

Viktor stood impatiently holding an enormous bouquet of roses. When he'd arrived back at the flat to find Hermione gone and her clothes missing, but most of her things still there, he'd initially Apparated to her parents' house. It was mess. She'd clearly been sleeping in the living room. The coffee table was covered in empty glasses and wine bottles, the ashtray was overflowing, and her clothes were strewn about the room. Looking at the state of things, he regretted not corresponding with her for the last month. He'd intended to surprise her with a ski trip to the Alps, so they could reconnect and talk about the future, but she wasn't home. He'd gone then, to Godric's Hollow, to Harry's house, figuring she was probably spending Christmas Day there, but the house was dark. Then he remembered that Harry was married to Ron's sister, whose brother Bill was married to Fleur. He'd Apparated to the Burrow, expecting to find Hermione wherever Harry was. Since Harry had no family of his own, he was likely with his wife's family, Viktor had reasoned.

Finally, Hermione walked into the parlor. "Viktor? This is unexpected."

He held out the roses. "These are for you. I am apologizing. I have," he searched for the right words. "I have not been right by you."

She shook her head. "I don't **—** **"**

He felt bad about their argument. He shouldn't have let her leave like that. He should have listened more to what she was really trying to say. "Listen to me. I know I have not done what you wanted, and that was wrong. You want to be married. You want to have babies. I have not made these things my priority. I will do that now. We will be married. We can do it soon. How much time do you need to plan a wedding?"

"A wedding? I can't **—"**

He plowed ahead, knowing she just needed to hear him out. "I have a long break before Quidditch starts again. Do you think you can make a wedding before the start of next season? That would be good if you can do. After that, we start on babies. As many babies as you want." He smiled at her.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't want to be a single mother."

"What are you talking about? I said we will get married first. Unless…" He raised an eyebrow at her. "You are pregnant now? No matter, we speed up wedding."

Hermione sighed. "No. I'm not pregnant, but you'll continue to play Quidditch."

"Of course." He smiled again. "I have to make a living. It will be hard to support all those babies without Quidditch."

She shook her head again, which was starting to get irritating. "You're gone three quarters of the year with the team. I don't want to sit home alone with children who don't know their own father."

"You can bring them to matches. My mother did this. It will be fine. You will see." He touched her chin with his finger.

She looked up at him, but shook her head. "It won't work."

He glowered at her. "It will work. Come home. I will show you. It will work."

"Viktor…" She closed her eyes. "I don't want to live like that."

He felt bad. "I have neglected you. Come, let me fix that."

She looked at him. "I'm not coming back. I'm never coming back. It's over."

"You are being ridiculous!" he shouted.

Arthur Weasley stuck his head around the corner. "Everything all right in here?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione said to Arthur. "We've hijacked your parlor. We'll continue this outside." Viktor was annoyed but then thought perhaps they could speak more freely in the garden. Better yet, he might be able to convince her to go back to the flat to finish their conversation. He was surprised when she switched to Bulgarian to say, "Come on," as she pressed him out the door.

"Let's just go home," he said, continuing the conversation in Bulgarian. He felt like his native language gave him a slight advantage anyway. "It is Christmas. We should be together."

"Why are you doing this?" I told you I was done. I assumed you were too. I haven't heard one word from you in weeks and now, out of the blue, you come here and expect…what? I'm suddenly going to change my mind?"

"What are you talking about? I told you I would be back Christmas Day. I went home and you weren't there. I went to your parents' house, where you left your typical mess, and then I went to Harry's house. No note anywhere, but you act like I am the rude one."

She stood blinking at him. "But…"

"But what?"

"We…" she shook her head again. "I…"

"What?" he shouted.

"We broke up in Miami."

"No, we did not! You said you were done with the party, and you were tired of the glamor charms and the lifestyle." He softened his tone. "You talked about wanting a family. I should have been more sensitive. I should have listened to what you were really saying. I am sorry."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "When I said I was done, I didn't just mean with the lifestyle. I meant I was done with us."

"What are you talking about?" He couldn't believe she was saying these things. He thought maybe she was trying to punish him for taking the position with the Bulgarian National Team?

She let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry. I thought I made my position clear."

"Clear? None of this has been clear. Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm not acting like anything. For the last month, I've been under the impression that we were broken up, and I received nothing from you to make me doubt that you also thought that."

"I have been busy! Besides, I thought it best to give you time to cool off."

"Really?" She arched an eyebrow at him. "Busy for a solid month? No time to write even a postcard to ask after me?"

He looked away from her over the snow-covered landscape. She had a point, which was irritating. He had been somewhat relieved not to have to deal with her and even though he had thought several times of writing to her, it was easier not to. He had told himself it was better to wait and talk face-to-face. Clearly, that had been a mistake. "I am sorry. I should have written."

"But you didn't."

He hated how she would twist the knife when she knew she was right.

"And I think, if you're honest, you know why you didn't."

He frowned at her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"At our best, we were never more than good friends who lived together. We're not in love. We've never been in love. Don't you miss that? Don't you think you deserve that? Don't you think I do?"

He stared at her, embarrassed to have her put her finger on something he had felt for a long time, angry that she was calling him out on the cowardice of settling.

"I think we both deserve to be in love."

"Love is a little word, that means too many things." A hollow formed in his stomach.

"And yet, we never say it to each other." Her voice was just above a whisper.

Viktor looked at the lopsided house behind her. "Is that why you are here? Do you imagine you will find lost love?"

Her jaw tightened at the dig, and he regretted making it. "I'm here for Christmas. I don't have aspirations beyond that."

He narrowed his eyes at her trying to decide if he believed her. "I hope not, because that would be a mistake."

She glared at him. "My mistakes aren't your problem anymore."

He nodded, angry that she had ended things, angry that she could never leave well-enough alone, angry that he would be spending Christmas in the Alps alone, but all he said was, "True. Silver lining."

"Right," she said, turning away from him.

"Fine." He drew his wand and Disapparated.

xXx

Hermione stood staring at the spot where Viktor had been a moment ago. She gripped the roses he'd given her, subconsciously casting a spell, until they withered and dried, eventually crumbling to dust and blowing away in the breeze. Snow began falling, and she closed her eyes. She done it. She was on her own in the cold. She took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. She would survive, even if she had to claw and crawl, she would get her life back.

~Finis~

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Thank you for reading. You might also like my books: The Annie Fitch Mysteries: Exposed Fury and Hidden Fury (available March 2,2021) and the stand alone novel: One Big Beautiful Thing, available anywhere books are sold and on all digital platforms. Enjoy!


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